


A Mutual Concern

by WhyMrSpook



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Dammit Jim, Drunkenness, F/M, Five Year Mission, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pon Farr, Post-Star Trek (2009), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pretty much everything, Protective Spock, Space Husbands, T'hy'la, Tarsus IV, jim loves Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: “I’m proud of you, kid.” He said firmly, “Even if you’re sending Spock insane because he cares too much about you.”“Don’t be a dick, Bones. Spock just lost his entire planet and mother, I’m not the one that’s screwing with his mind.”“Yeah, well he’s screwing with yours aint he?”One month into their Five Year mission, Spock struggles with nightmares and Jim struggles with his past. Through the bizarre incidents that space travel has to offer them and the constant threat of death, they find the comfort they've been seeking from each other within their impossible lives.





	1. Chapter 1

Jim groaned at the sound of his communicator beeping, pushing the covers back to his hips and moving an arm, heavy with sleep, to his bedside table to look at his communicator.

“Captain, may I enquire after your location and status.” Spock’s voice came through the system, quiet and alarmingly hoarse, for one normally so calm and collected. Not that the half-Vulcan wasn’t calm per se, as he spoke, but Jim liked to think he’d become more attuned to his First Officer over the last few months, between meetings and the odd game of chess, and that he could tell when something was wrong.

“I’m in my quarters, Spock, and curious as to why you felt the need to wake me at,” He almost groaned at the time, eyes flicking to his PADD for confirmation, “This ungodly hour.” Particularly given it was an ungodly hour that Spock probably should have been dedicating to Uhura- not that Jim concerned himself with such things. Frankly, he made a conscious effort to not think about his First Officer and Communications Officer.

“Apologies, Captain. You may resume unconsciousness.”

“Yeah, if only, Spock, and that’s not an explanation either. What’s wrong?”

“If I may, Sir, I should like to make a report in the morning. I believe I require time to meditate on the matter.”

Jim’s attention truly was caught now. Spock had seemed so at ease, recently. Or not emotionally compromised, in any case. The trauma of losing his planet had seemed to ease the moment they’d boarded the enterprise after a short break to technically graduate. Yet, for Spock to be troubled in the middle of the night was concerning. Jim was allowed to be concerned about his crew- it was his duty as captain. Then again, if Spock functioned on less sleep then perhaps this time was utilised as any other would be from the Vulcan – to overthink issues and determine logical courses of action. What it mattered, and why he wanted to know so desperately, Jim couldn’t say.

“If you say so, Spock. You can report to my quarters for breakfast if you like, at 0700 hours.” He paused, frowning. “But I’ll be here all night, if you need me.”

“That will not be necessary, Captain. Spock out.”

Jim frowned at his silent communicator, but didn’t press the matter. Unfortunately, he truly was wide-awake now. It had taken him hours on end to even fall asleep in the first place, not for the first time since their return to the ship, and sobriety wasn’t helping. He and Bones always made a pact to limit alcohol intake, particularly when their resources might have been needed at any point. But in the middle of the night, woken by a troubled Vulcan and prevented from returning to sleep by his own anxiety, he figured a shot of whiskey couldn’t get him in too much trouble.

At some point, lack of sleep would definitely come back to bite him in the ass. He’d told Bones he’d gotten it under control the week they’d boarded the Enterprise once again. And in a way, he had done. This, after all, wasn’t the first time he’d learned how to function on little sleep. He’d done it before and he could certainly manage it again. Eventually, he’d slip up. He’d yawn on the bridge or doze off in the observation lounge. Bones would find him and tear him to shreds for lying, and then he’d be at the mercy of a medical report and goddamn hypos. But that was only if he didn’t find a solution before then. He sipped his whiskey, revelling in the burning ice sensation down his throat.

If he wasn’t going to sleep, again, he might as well crack on with some paperwork. Then, at least, he might bore himself into unconsciousness. It was a win-win scenario for him technically, even if staying awake for paperwork mean an absence of sleep. Still, as Spock would say, it was logical he kept himself productive. He was captain, after all.

* * *

The fact that it was technically morning was made known to him by the timely arrival of Spock, outside his quarters. He’d ended up showering and dressing hours ago, when he’d given up on sleep, and tending to all of his unsigned paperwork. At some point though, he’d stopped paying attention. His hand had started signing things of its own accord and he stared at his papers without really seeing. If anything, he’d caused himself more work. Now he’d have to go back over everything and read it again, to make sure nothing was out of place. Once upon a time, he’d have said fuck it and gone off to take the world by storm. Now he knew the meaning of being a captain and the responsibility he had on his shoulders. Hell, all the trouble he’d gone through to be assigned Captain- he wasn’t about to complain about some measly paperwork.

He straightened his shirt, sitting back in his chair.

“Enter, Spock.”

The doors opened, and Spock walked in, straight backed and eyes fixed on Jim from the moment he entered the room. The look on Spock’s face told him he knew Jim hadn’t slept, but Jim could tell instantly that Spock hadn’t slept either. It was both a comfort that they could tell this about each other, and a fucking pain in the arse. It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Spock to forgo sleep, exactly, but there was a difference between functioning for longer on less sleep and Spock pushing himself too far. Perhaps Jim saw it because he was in precisely the same boat- only without the helpful Vulcan biology.

“Good Morning, Captain.”

“Good, really?” Jim teased, unsurprised when he provoked no reaction from the half-Vulcan. All of Spock’s emotions today seemed to be directed to the thin frown lines on his forehead, and the unwavering gaze held on him. “I’m sorry, I’m unprepared. I hadn’t noticed the time.” He admitted, moving to the replicator for tea and breakfast. “Sit, Spock.”

“You did not sleep, Captain?”

Jim swung around, grinning blithely. “What do you think, Spock?”

“I apologise. Your health is paramount to the operations of this ship, I should not continue to infringe on your time.”

“Relax, Spock. Don’t tell Bones, but I’m used to it by now.” He replied, passing the breakfast items to Spock and then joining him at the table. Frankly, he wasn’t sure why he was telling Spock this. Since everything with Nero, he seemed to trust Spock implicitly. He couldn’t help it. Spock had proven to regard protocol above human brotherhood a dozen times, and if there was anyone who would tell on him to Bones, it was Spock. On the other hand, if there was anyone in the world besides Bones that he trusted with his life, it was Spock. Not that he allowed himself to dwell on that very often – but perhaps those two things – telling on his to Bones and protecting his life – went hand in hand.

“Captain,” Spock seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say, and fell silent to think. Jim watched him carefully, amusement and concern both pressing at his mind and neither quite settling. This was Spock for god’s sake- he never struggled to articulate his thoughts. The idea struck Jim that perhaps these weren’t thoughts at all, but feelings. Oh, this was going to be interesting. “I awoke last night from a disturbance in my REM phase of sleep.” Their eyes locked again. “I seemed to convince myself subconsciously that you were in danger.”

“You mean you had a bad dream? You and me both, Spock. So that’s why you commed me?”

“Precisely. I thought it prudent to ascertain your whereabouts to ensure your safety. I realise now that my actions were foolish and hasty.”

“No Spock, they were just a bit human.” Jim corrected, softly, before sipping his cooling tea. It wasn’t his favourite brew, but he knew for a fact it was Spock’s, and the Vulcan seemed to be taking comfort from it without meaning to. “We’re friends, right Spock?” Nothing else would explain how he knew Spock’s favourite tea. Hell, he couldn’t even remember learning that.

Spock’s lips did that little upturn at the corner thing- Jim saw. Not quite a smirk, but a show of amusement nonetheless. Amusement? Fondness. Or maybe Jim was just seeing what he wanted to see. Maybe it was straight up derision. “As you say, Captain.”

Well, that was about as encouraging as a Vulcan could be. Perhaps friendly enemies might have better described their relationship thus far. Jim was probably too used to talking to old Spock; he kept forgetting his Spock wasn’t in that place yet. His Spock didn’t trust him.

“Right. Well, that’s what friends do. Check up on each other when they think something’s wrong. You said it yourself, Spock, Earth’s the only other home you have left. Why not try embracing humanity, for once.” He grinned. “Speaking of- where’s Uhura this fine morning?” As hollowing as it was to think of the two in a relationship – fuck, Jim had _stared_ when he’d first seen them kissing – it was equally as amusing to imagine the officer waiting in bed, while her boyfriend abandoned her to have breakfast with the Captain.

“Lieutenant Uhura and I ceased our relationship prior to the start of this mission, Captain.” Spock informed him then, blandly, as though this startling piece of information was the most obvious thing on ship.

“It’s Jim- Spock- and I’m sorry?! What- what happened?”

“We agreed we were fundamentally incompatible. I assure you, Jim, you need not worry about our working relationship.”

“Evidently not, Spock. I hadn’t even noticed a problem.” He frowned, casting his thoughts back to the month they’d been aboard already. “You’ve been as friendly as ever.”

“My relationship with Uhura was one of friendship long before it developed into anything else. It would be illogical to dispose of that at the start of a five-year period together in space.”

“No, of course.” Jim spluttered. “Well, I’m sorry to hear it Spock.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say they made a good couple. Perhaps they did. He’d tried not to notice. They ate in silence for a little while, and Jim tried not to analyse why Spock had not commented on his apology. It seemed out of character for the man he’d known for all of six months now.

“Do you intend to discuss with Doctor McCoy your current issues with sleep?”

“Not if I can help it. I get phantom pains in my neck in fear of another hypo-shot.” He teased. “It’s just anxiety, Spock. Most humans suffer from it from time to time. I’ll get over it soon. And, as Bones has more important patients to worry about.”

“I disagree. You are his Captain and his friend.” Spock said simply.

* * *

Jim only realised Bones was stood behind him when he heard the eerie sound of the scanner beeping close to his right ear. He jumped and turned, neck cricking uncomfortably as he found himself face to face with the Doctor. If that wasn’t the stuff of nightmares. He grimaced at the look on Bones’ face; like he was a big old disappointment.

“When’d you last got any decent sleep, Captain?” He asked quietly, at least not subjecting Jim to this for the whole bridge to hear. But damn, if Spock hadn’t actually gone and told on him. He didn’t know why he’d let himself think any other route might happen.

“Aw c’mon Bones- when have you ever paid attention to Spock before.” Jim whined instantly, casting his eyes over to the science officer’s empty chair. In his lab, Jim supposed, hiding after telling on him, or perhaps finally getting some much needed rest.

“The hobgoblin?” Bones snorted. “Never. But it wasn’t him, idiot.”

Jim frowned, eyes casting around the bridge suspiciously. His crew were all keeping their eyes fixed to their screens, although Chekov was humming to himself too, obliviously. Any one of them might have reported him- not that he knew why.

“You _look_ tired, and in eight hours you’re arriving at the base camp for a confederation dinner. Now do you remember what happened the last time you yawned in the face of a superior?” Of course Jim did. He remembered as well as Bones did- Bones who had been his poor roommate and thus forced to listen to his endless complaining about the work he’d been set to make up for his disobedience. It had been torture of the highest standard.

“They can’t do that to me anymore, man. I’m a captain now.” Not that his whimpered self-assurances did much to convince himself of that fact.

“Yes, and as your doctor I’m ordering you to rest. Now you can go to your quarters and sleep, or I’ll drag you to sickbay and _make_ you.” To that, Bones held his hypo up menacingly. Jim didn’t doubt he’d make good on his threat- he had done multiple times in the past after all, never once with Jim’s consent. Then again, Bones had kept him alive all these years so perhaps it was an effective strategy. God, he was starting to sound like Spock now.

“Fine. Sulu-“ He called, and Sulu held his thumbs up in a sign of acknowledgement that he had the conn. Regardless, Bones still grabbed his arm and practically steered him off the bridge.

In the privacy of the lift, he spoke again. “Now, d’you wanna tell me why you were awake in the middle of the night after a 12-hour shift, or are you really gonna make me do something I don’t want to.”

“Don’t lie to me, Bones, I _know_ you want to.” Jim replied, in only faux bitterness. “If you must know, Spock woke me up.”

“Spock?” Bones repeated, grimacing. “Weedy guy, about this high, pointy goblin ears?” He said, holding his hand up sarcastically. “Poor you, that’s not a sight I’d want to wake up to.”

Jim smiled sardonically, humouring the man. The angry banter that the Doctor and First Officer shared was already legendary on the ship, and they’d only been out for a month. On this particular occasion, he didn’t agree with Bones’ analysis. In fact, he felt suddenly felt a pang of sorrow on behalf of Uhura. It had probably been nice for her to wake up next to someone she loved, and Spock was beautiful anyway. Bones knew it, even if he’d never admit it.

“Piss off, Bones. He commed me to make sure I was alright. He’d had a bad dream.”

“Jesus- maybe I should drag him into the sickbay instead. Is that normal?”

“I don’t think so, maybe not for Vulcans.” Though it occurred to him that during his meld with other Spock, the intensity of his emotions had been staggering. “But then again, he’s half human. He’s not exactly our average Vulcan. I told him it was natural and we had a chat about it this morning.” They turned the corner towards Jim’s quarters. “He did worry me though, Bones. And did you know he and Uhura broke up?”

“Yeah, like months ago. How did you not know that?”

“What do you mean, ‘how did I _not_ know that’?” Jim asked, gaping mouthed. “Literally nothing has changed in their relationship- how _did_ you know that?”

“Because I have eyes, idiot, and ears. The entire ship has been speculating the reason.” Bones’ eyes flickered to him, uncertain, and he paused. “Do you think that’s contributing to his… emotional distress?”

“I don’t know, Bones. He seemed more calm talking about that than anything. Not Vulcan calm, though. I don’t think he was repressing anything. He just seemed fine with it.” And considering how at ease he continued to be around the lieutenant, perhaps there truly wasn’t an issue there. “Maybe I should talk to Uhura anyway. Make sure everything is A-Okay.”

Bones rolled his eyes, punching in the code for Jim’s quarters. Jim didn’t bother to ask how Bones knew it- the idiot would just use his medical override if he needed to anyway.

“You just want to be nosy now that you know she’s single again. Right, I’m going to come and collect you in five hours. Sleep, Jim. I mean it. I’ll be checking when I come later. Do you need any help?”

“No, I can tuck myself in thanks.” Jim clapped his shoulder blithely, and then stepped into his quarters. He could just about hear Bones’ irritated, foul utterance before the doors slid shut behind him.

* * *

How on earth the dignitary dinner had turned into a hostage situation, with one ambassador dead and Jim as the hostage, was _beyond_ him. One moment everything had been ordinary and boring, the next he’d been tackling a wanted criminal to the ground and bleeding profusely _somewhere_. In fairness, he had been knocked unconscious for a few moments prior to that, so the escalation of events had been far out of his reach to prevent. Consciousness found the banquet hall deserted of civilians- thankfully, at least. He was alone and any of the potential exits had been barred with significant force. He hadn’t ever been a hostage before. He wondered if he should make a check list of all the crazy dangerous situations he’d evened up in. Or maybe just start a bingo card.

As his vision began to blur and he gave up on finding an exit, he reminded himself that his crew existed. The faith he had in them was unparalleled, and yet he did so hate being the rescued rather than the rescuer. He sunk down onto the ground, blinking until his vision steadied a little. He had yet to ascertain where he’d been hit and he couldn’t feel the pain beneath his adrenaline, so the injury was far beneath his top priorities as of then. If anything, it was a minor irritation- there really was blood everywhere. God, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to really bleed.

He’d almost given into sleep when the great doors, where just a few hours before they’d entered to a round of applause - the great crew of the magnificent USS Enterprise, burned apart. Jim recognised distantly the image of Spock and Bones. His dream team.

“S-Spock…” Since when had breathing been that hard? Fucking hell, Bones was already attacking him with hypos, and he wanted to throw up.

“Yes, Captain.” Perhaps he was imagining it, but Spock spoke with the same tone he had done on the Bridge all those months ago. It was a tone that said, to Jim, that his friend was emotionally compromised. But what did he know? He was probably imagining things.

“Look after – Enterprise – if Bones kills me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Darkness enveloped him, then, and despite waking at several points, it had not dissipated for quite some time. When Bones finally did allow him to wake fully, it was to a low level light in the sickbay. The Doctor sat next to him, tapping at his PADD absently. He seemed completely aware of everything to do with Jim, eyes flicking up within a moment of Jim’s opening. He helped him sit up and sip some water, demonstrating better bedside manner than he’d cared to give Jim in years. Damn Bones, treating him like a brother.

“Anything to report, Captain?” He finally asked, when Jim could only guess he was certain that his return to the land of the living had been completely successful.

“Grogginess. What the _hell_ happened, Bones?” He asked, dizziness assaulting him momentarily before he adjusted and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“You were the target of an anti-federation mission. They never intended to kill anyone, apparently.” Bones paused, looking conflicted as Jim had ever seen him. “The poor of their society are struggling from a famine at the moment.” Their eyes met darkly, and despite his tired body he felt ready to pounce immediately.

“What the hell- I have to-“

“You don’t have to or get to do damn shit, Jim. Starfleet have already interceded. The first supplies have already dropped, and an ambassador is assessing the human rights situation.”

“Already? How long did you keep me under?” Despite the reassurance, Jim still felt nauseous. He should have been down there on the planet, actually working to help rectify a situation he knew far too much about. He could be useful. Bones knew that! He could fight and organise and do whatever the hell it took to stop that from happening!

“Two days. You were already exhausted and injured, and I sure as hell wasn’t waking your sorry ass up to a traumatic trip down memory lane. Not until I was sure the situation was in hand.” Jim’s anger dissipated somewhat, and he felt a pang of gratitude to his oldest friend. Of course avoiding the situation- knowing that Starfleet were dealing with it appropriately, was comforting. But did he, more than anyone, not have right to know? To apologise and try to help.

“I see.”

“Don’t look at me like that, moron. I’m your Doctor. I have been since that sorry day you woke up on earth. I made a decision and I’ll be damned if I’m going to regret it. Your body needed this time- how was your mind supposed to process anything if your body wasn’t prepared? And then there’s your other little problem.”

“What other problem?”

“Your dearest pet hobgoblin.”

“Spock?”

Bones’ eyes narrowed and he placed his PADD down theatrically, arms reaching out. “Spock- he says. Yes, _Spock_. That damn Vulcan has not left me the hell alone in days, Jim. Two. Days. Constantly asking for updates on you- asking why I hadn’t woken you yet- asking when you’ll wake. He’s like a puppy whose lost his master.”

“Don’t, Bones. He’s had a rough time recently.”

Bones seemed to deflate slightly. “I know, Jim. Not as rough a time as he gave to the guards outside the hall you were kept in.”

“What?”

“He broke his own hand, darlin’. And you and I both know what that means.”

“He…? _Shit_ , Bones.”

“You have to talk to him. Resolve whatever it is he’s struggling with, or you’ve got an emotionally compromised Vulcan on your hands. Again.” Bones rolled his eyes. “I told him you’d wake up at 1600 hours, so I predict he’ll walk through that door in about ten seconds.”

Jim glanced at Bones’ PADD, and it was indeed precisely 1600 already. “I’m offended he isn’t here already.” He teased, lightly, just in time for the doors to slide open quietly. Spock entered, eyes fixed on Jim immediately.

“Captain.”

“Mr Spock,” Jim smiled at the sight. “I believe we have a great many things to discuss.”

“Yes, Captain.” Spock said. If Jim didn’t know any better, he might have said the reply was tentative- if not utterly apprehensive. Spock spoke slowly and kept his eyes locked on Jim, ignoring McCoy with all the tact that he had ever displayed to the Ship’s CMO.

“Alright, well I have other patients to tend to. I’ll leave you to it.” Bones approached the doors before pausing and turning back. “It is my _medical_ opinion that you stay here for another night.” He said, stiffly. “However, if you do go back to your own quarters then I expect _someone_ to see you straight into bed. Whether that’s me, Spock or a nurse.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Jim said, almost teasingly, and was rewarded with rolled eyes before Bones left them alone.

“You look well, Captain.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve woken up in med and not immediately had a hypo, so I can’t complain.” Though he bet he could win records with how many Bones must have administered while he was busy nearly dying.

“That is unusual, for Doctor McCoy.” Spock agreed. The words might have been humorous, if only they weren’t delivered with such sombre concern. “I admit, I found myself somewhat perplexed at the Doctor’s decision to incapacitate you for so long.”

“What did Bones tell you?”

“He cited emotional distress as his reasoning, and then,” Spock’s ears tinged green. “And then provided me with a new vernacular of Terran insults.” Jim laughed, loudly. “I admit, Captain, there were a great many that I had never considered placing together before.”

“I don’t doubt it. Well, Bones has updated me on the whole situation. Have we had any new commands in?”

“We are being sent to Starbase 7. Mr Scott’s expertise have been requested for repairs there.”

“If we’re lucky, nothing will go wrong and we’ll actually get a few days off while Scotty works there.”

“You have not addressed my concern, Captain.”

Jim tensed. Of course there was no deflection where Spock was concerned. The half-Vulcan was not so easily distracted, particularly not when he thought something was amiss. After all, how could he complete his report on the incident if ignorant of some of the facts.

“You broke your hand fighting, Spock. That doesn’t sound particularly healthy either you know.”

“I miscalculated my aim and the reflexes of my opponent. You are deflecting my question.”

“Yes, Mr Spock.” Jim seethed. “Emotional distress is a fairly apt description of why Bones kept me under until the situation was in hand. If he hadn’t, I’d probably have dived head first to that planet and got myself into a fuck ton more trouble.”

“Captain?”

“I didn’t realise Vulcans were so nosy, Spock?” Jim arched a brow, fighting back his irritation. It was not Spock’s fault. Spock didn’t know, and Jim had no reason to be angry. “Nothing on earth would have talked me out of going to that planet. Doctor McCoy decided not to give me the opportunity to attempt it. I’m too… emotionally compromised.”

“I see.” Spock said slowly, but he didn’t see at all. Jim knew this and the words, the explanation, were bursting to come forth. He could feel his throat constricting, and however much he wanted to tell Spock everything, he couldn’t get the words out.

“Spock,” He finally ground out, through sharp inhales that pierced his lungs. “You’re my friend. So I need you to understand that I’m okay. Don’t doubt Bones. He made the right decision. If… if you require further proof, you can talk to him. Tell him that I told you to. But don’t… don’t make me talk any more, Spock. I-“

In his mind’s eye, he could see Tarsus. The images leaked into reality. He looked at Spock, all cheekbones and lean strength, and instead saw a skeletal creature with a gaunt face and pleading eyes. A starving, dying man.

“Spock, I can’t- Don’t make me-“ Breath was a luxury he couldn’t seem to wrap his lungs around. Fucking, shitting, panic attacks- damn worthless, fuck!

There was confusion. Time wasn’t working for him, but there was barking anger that could only have been Bones, and his name spoken frantically. There was a sharp stab in his neck and then weightlessness, before nothing at all.

* * *

Bones had reluctantly let him out of sickbay the next day, convinced that the steady beeping machinery and clinical smell was doing Jim more harm than good. That didn’t mean the Doctor wasn’t coming to check up on his twice a day and making sure he was sleeping soundly, without nightmares. For the most part, he didn’t. Jim was used to it anyway, in a twisted way. At least when he woke up, shaking and nauseous, he could catch up on his paperwork. Bones was always there when things got too bad, anyway.

It had been three days. Three long, shifting days of sleeplessness and paperwork and dishing out commands whenever he felt just a touch too useless. His crew seemed to understand, in any case. He had barely seen Spock in that time, their duty rota separating them entirely. He had walked past his First Officer on a corridor, at one point. He’d switched off from the young ensign who had been reporting to him excitedly, staring at his First Officer. His legs had kept walking of their own accord, even as Spock finally looked up and locked eyes with him until they had passed each other. Perhaps he’d been imagining it, but Jim swore he looked as close to startled as a Vulcan could do or, at least, caught off guard.

He wanted to talk to his friend. Old Spock was nice and amiable, but he wasn’t _there_. Jim missed playing chess and Spock’s bland analysis of the ship, and hated the fact that he missed Spock even though he was right there. The relative peace from the start of the mission had dissolved into tense uncertainty. Between Spock’s nightmare and Jim’s bout of PTSD, everything was in disequilibrium. What’s more, Jim knew that he wasn’t the only one struggling for it. Bones had asked him when he was going to resolve whatever had happened between them, at one point, and Jim had felt himself deflate. It meant that Spock hadn’t asked Bones about his emotional outburst. Why, Jim wasn’t sure. He could never be sure of anything with Spock. He was such a baffling combination of emotion and logic. What was worse, Jim got the impression that Spock thought he could see right through him. As much as Jim wanted to think he could, it certainly wasn’t the case now.

A buzz rang through his quarters sharply. “Captain? Are you available for lunch in the Officer’s mess?”

He allowed the doors to open to his communications officer, and found Uhura looking at him knowingly- not unlike Bones or Spock. He wondered idly when she’d gotten to know him so well. At what point at the start of this five-year mission did his academy pursuit become his friend?

“For you, Lieutenant Uhura, of course.” He replied charmingly, flashing her a smile that once would have made her hit him, or at least swear under her breath in a language he didn’t recognise. Now, she just fixed him with a stern smile and gestured for him to leave his Quarters. He did so, feeling he’d somehow lost an advantage. He’d been in command long enough to know when he was being manipulated.

“We’re friends; aren’t we Captain?” She smiled at him plainly, but didn’t wait for an answer. “You haven’t been quite right since the attack at the diplomatic dinner, and I’m worried about you. The whole crew are feeling it too- this tension. So I’m going to ask you now, as your friend first, are you alright?”

Jim flinched. He didn’t mean to- couldn’t stop it happening. Through gritted teeth he ground out, “Yes, _Nyota_. I’m fine.” And then he deflated, the weight of the world slipping off his shoulders as the realisation dawned on him. “I really am fine.” He repeated. He was not a child any more. He was a grown man, in command of an enterprise ship, with a family of crew who cared for him and looked out for him. How dare he be anything less than fine. “It’s been a tough week. For personal reasons. But I promise I’m on the up again. Besides, I’ve got Bones looking out for me. He wouldn’t let me on that bridge if he thought there was an issue.”

“I know.” Uhura replied gently. “I love the Doctor, Jim, he’s a great friend to you. But pouring you a glass of bourbon isn’t the same as making sure you can sleep at night.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant.” He cut her off sharply. She didn’t, and the impertinent part of Jim wanted her to know it. She had no idea that Bones came and sat with him every evening until he drifted off, that he was never really sleeping in case Jim needed him. That he’d been that way since the academy, when Bones had first discovered what had happened to Jim.

“Fine.” Uhura replied, terse and eyes forward.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a dick. But just trust me on this, Uhura. I may be a sorry excuse for a captain when it comes to death count, but I’ve always been able to keep myself alive at least.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I wanted to speak to you, anyway. About our First Officer.”

Uhura finally looked at him again, suspicious. “What about him?”

“It was recently brought to my attention that you and Spock have… terminated your relationship.” She said nothing, and so he continued hurriedly. “But you still know Spock better than anyone, and he’s been a little unpredictable recently.” He thought of Spock’s broken hand and didn’t think for one second that he had ‘miscalculated’ or whatever excuse he’d given. “Emotional, even. Do you think he’s okay?”

“It took you this long to realise we’d broken up?” Nyota said loudly, with a baffled laugh. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, Jim, but I don’t know Spock better than anyone. If I did, I’m sure we’d still be together.”

“Uhura.” His tone was only mildly petulant.

“Jim.” She fixed him with another stern glare. “If Spock _is_ being emotional, you need to talk to him. You’re the only one whose ever been able to provoke any sort of emotional response from him.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“Jim, it’s really not my place to say.” They reached the officer’s mess, and Uhura tugged him to a stop. “You and Spock have a strange relationship, you realise? But if you wanted an educated guess… I’d say he’s worried about you.”

“Worried? About me?” He stared. “Spock?”

Uhura simply watched him, her lips pressed into a thin line. If he hadn’t known her before Spock, he’d have said she’d learned it from him. As it was, the meaningful look on both great knowledge and great restraint was merely a shared strength in his two friends.

“I’ll talk to him.” He relented finally, deflating again as he saw Bones approaching down the corridor with a grim sort of satisfaction written into his features.

“Ah, it’s about time someone dragged you out for lunch. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the lack of activity on your diet card.” He said, reaching them. “You look grey, Jim.”

“You’ll join us, Doctor?” Uhura asked, grinning wickedly.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember on old school ff when people used to say 'I'm a virgin, i'm just well read.'
> 
> Yeah? Well I've watched very little TOS, I'm just well read. 
> 
> That being said, any mistakes etc are totally my fault and please don't hesitate to enlighten me.


	2. Chapter 2

Jim finally saw Spock again in the gym, after the Alpha shift. He wasn’t interested in fighting with him, not now. Tiring though it was, he wouldn’t allow his first off-duty interaction with Spock to be the result of pent-up frustration. What he _did_ want to do was build up an appetite, and maybe tire himself out enough that he could tell Bones he could sleep just fine alone from now on. He walked right by his First Officer and ran on one of the treadmills. He hated running. For too long, running had been something that he'd had to do. Not running for pleasure or sport, but out of fear or necessity. He'd run to survive and that hadn't really changed with Captaining the Enterprise. Still, he saw the benefits of a good run sometimes. Tonight, he needed to wear himself out. He ran until he thought he couldn’t stand up any longer.

When the ground beneath his feet slowed to a stop, he took his towel and buried his face in it, soaking up sweat and catching his breath. He hadn't paid attention to how long had passed in the Gym, but he definitely felt tired enough to sleep. He would eat in his quarters and fall into his thin, Starfleet issue mattress, and sleep tangled in his sheets for as long as he possibly could. All in all, it wouldn’t be a bad night. When he was sure he could make the journey without his legs giving way beneath him, he flung his towel over his shoulder and turned, finding himself face to face with his first officer.

“Spock- I thought you’d gone.”

“No, Captain.” He said blandly, and a silent _obviously_ , hung between them. “We are both about to proceed in the same direction, provided I was correct in deducing you are also returning to your quarters now.”

“You want to walk me back to my quarters?” Jim tried to fight back his grin. In fairness, he didn’t try exceptionally hard, and his efforts only weakened when Spock arched a perfect brow at him.  “You do know how to treat a guy, Mr Spock.”

“Captain, it is only logical-“

“Yes, thank you Spock.” It was not rude to cut him off, Jim thought, because he had something far more important to say. “I appreciate your concern, you know. I know how it is to feel useless, and I appreciate the manner in which you’ve proceeded with your duties.”

“Vulcans have no purpose in feeling useless, Captain.”

It was the same old argument every time. Vulcans don’t feel. Vulcans are superior in every way, but most especially in their ability to circumvent the mind field of neurological processes of humanoid brains. Only Spock wasn’t like the rest of his species- he wasn’t. Whatever doubts he had about his ability to understand him, Jim at least knew this. Spock was his friend.

“You didn’t feel useless when your planet was swallowed and you couldn’t do anything about it? You didn’t feel as utterly inadequate as the rest of us?”

“I utilised the available time to retrieve the elders.” Spock swallowed uncomfortably- not, Jim thought bitterly, that Vulcans were capable of awkwardness. “However, I am more than aware of my failures in my attempts, Captain.”

His mother. Jim almost flinched in the realisation- perhaps he did. He couldn’t seem to stop flinching recently anyway. It was a perfectly reasonable thing for Spock to say- to remind Jim that he could be an insensitive prick, and he needed to learn when to shut the hell up. But it still felt like a punch to the gut- and he could even imagine how Spock had handled it.

“I didn’t mean that, Spock. You did everything you could do. But that’s my point precisely. Sometimes you do your best, and it still isn’t enough. That’s the nature of the game.”

“I find myself unsure of how to respond, Captain.”

Jim half laughed, “I know.” The prospect of his quarters, of his bed, and even the stack of paperwork he had to do, was a bland sort of comfort to him now. “What I’m trying to say, Spock, is I’m sorry you had to see me like that the other day. I was,” He tensed, “Emotionally compromised, I guess.”

“I fail to understand your concern for my welfare, Captain, as I was not the one in pain.”

“I can’t imagine you enjoy seeing such emotional outbursts, Spock, and I’m grateful how tactful you’ve been about it.” This, Jim decided, seemed to be pointless. They seemed to be going round in circles, and Spock’s quirked eyebrow was decidedly too disapproving.

“Whilst it is true that I do not ‘enjoy’ as you say, negative emotional outbursts, I have found it is a different discomfort entirely when coming from someone I care about.” Spock said factually. “You are distressed, and yet you do not speak of why.”

“You’re my first officer, Spock, not my therapist.” Jim replied, lowering his tone severely when two ensigns moved past them on the corridor, looking very much like they were trying hard not to listen.

“Then am I to assume that Doctor McCoy sees to your mental facilities adequately, as opposed to the consumption of alcohol and mild sedatives in form of hyposprays.” Jim almost laughed at how similar Uhura’s argument had been. Only, Uhura had been concerned while Spock.... Well, Spock was pissed- he was genuinely angry. His eyes flashed fiercely, and Jim wasn’t sure it was for him or in protest against McCoy. Either way, he wasn’t particularly up to the challenge.

“Are you filing a complaint, Spock? And if so, is it purely against my inability to captain the enterprise after a few pathetic nightmares, or is it also against the activities I choose to indulge in during my downtime with my friend?”

“Your reaction is irrational, Jim. I am not speaking as your first officer. You are aware of the respect I have for your captaincy and command. I am speaking as your friend.”

A breath caught in Jim’s throat and his eyes closed briefly. Spock’s counterpart’s voice resonated in his head, ‘I have and always shall be, your friend’ and the current of emotion that carried those words; a closeness and sheer warmth that no tumbler of whiskey with Bones could ever hope to recreate.

Jim took a deep breath and made a decision.

“You better come inside.” Jim glanced down the corridor, already far more exhausted than he felt he could manage this conversation on. He’d been to the gym precisely to wear himself out enough to sleep. But this conversation… talking to Spock about this, well, he’d likely be up all night. Perhaps Bones would force him to take the next shift off.

He gestured for Spock to sit, not willing to endure this with the git looming over him all tall and brooding handsome, and procured them some water and glasses.

“What was your nightmare about, Spock?” He asked quietly, sipping his water and not quite daring to meet his first officer’s eyes. Uhura had told him to talk to Spock directly about his emotions, and that was what he was doing. Avoiding talking about his own was only a fraction of the reason he was a shitty friend.

“This is irrelevant-“

“We’re speaking as friends, Spock. If I have to open up to you, the least you could do is reciprocate with one sodding dream.”

Spock’s jaw tensed fractionally, and he held Jim’s level gaze. “Very well. In my,” he ground out the next word distastefully, “ _Nightmare_ , I was unable to ascertain your whereabouts. The crew were inefficient and insubordinate, and it eventually came to my attention that I had marooned you. I was unable to remember which planet you had been left on, and I awoke to moderate disorientation.”

“Well that explains why you commed me.” Now that he knew why, he wasn’t entirely sure how to react. Spock had watched his mother slip away from him, helpless as his planet was lost, and the thing that haunted his sleep was Jim? “You shouldn’t feel guilty, Spock. You did what you thought was right, and things worked out in the end.” If he hadn’t been marooned, he’d never have met other Spock, for one. He’d never have miraculously gotten them through the shit storm that the mission had been.

“Noted, Captain.” Spock quirked an eyebrow. “I believe reciprocation was discussed.”

“Fine.” Jim glared. “I’m telling you this because you’re my friend, Spock, but also because you’re my first officer. This information might be useful to you one day, if another situation ever presents itself like this and Bones isn’t around, or busy.”

“I see.”

He took a deep breath. “Tarsus IV.”

Spock’s eyes flashed with recognition. Of course they did. Of course Spock would know about the slaughters of that god awful planet. Nevertheless, he tilted his head in inquiry. “Captain?”

“I was there, Spock, during the famine. During the deaths. I was one of the lucky few who survived.” The words felt hollow and empty. They were not his own- merely recited statements from those who found him, and his mother. Lucky. Luck had never been a part of it. Ruthlessness and sacrifice, certainly.

“I had the designated amount of therapy and all the psyche evals federation have to offer, Spock, so everything is above board here. That’s why Bones didn’t let me wake up or go down to that starving planet. Because I’m fine, I am, but there are some situations I just shouldn’t be let into.”

Spock was silent, watching him carefully. A stranger wouldn’t see what Jim saw, he liked to think. A stranger would see dark eyes, trained and observant, but otherwise clinical and emotionless. Jim saw true concern and serious deliberation on what he should say in response.

“I concur that the Doctor made the correct decision.” Spock finally said. “Your well-being is crucial and I am,” He paused, “Grateful, that you have informed me of this. I will take it on board as both your friend and your first officer.”

“Thank you, Spock.” The exhaustion he’d been struggling with seemed to dissipate instantly. It wasn’t relief from telling Spock, far from it. There was no weight lifted from his shoulders; a problem shared was always a problem doubled. But he didn’t think he would ever tire of Spock calling him a friend. “Would you like to stay for a game of chess?”

Spock’s eyebrow raised. It was late, sure, but not yet early. “Another time, Jim. I have experiments to tend to before I can retire, and I must meditate tonight.”

“Of course, my friend, apologies. Another time.” They stood and moved to the door, and Spock almost stepped through before he turned, eyes burning with just as much emotion as they had been before. Meditation would definitely be required, Jim thought morosely. He wasn’t sure if he was proud of the fact he could illicit emotions from the half-Vulcan, or guilty that he did so when Spock so clearly didn’t want to feel such things.

“Will you be alright, Captain?”

Jim laughed lightly. “I should think so, Spock. I’m a grown man, after all.” Spock didn’t look convinced, and so he dropped his facade quickly. “Honestly, Spock. I’ve been dealing with this for a good few years now. Please don’t think too hard on it. I’m still the man I was last week.”

Only last week, Spock didn’t know about Tarsus. Spock was clever- damn clever- he had to realise what Tarsus meant. It meant Jim had killed- murdered, even, had starved and screamed and watched people he cared for die. It meant he was as violent and broken and damaged as Bones always acted like he was. It meant he had survived by the skin of his teeth, and emerged with scars so deep they would never truly heal. And now Spock knew all of this, because Jim had no other choice.

“Indeed captain. Then I will bid you goodnight.”

“Night, Spock.” He said, hoarsely.

The doors slid shut once more and Jim locked them, torn between kicking his chair and collapsing into it. He couldn’t determine his own feelings at that moment- everything was too much, too intense. He staggered to sit down, cradling his head in his hands and trying to distract himself from the relentless attack of thoughts.

‘Your well-being is crucial’, Spock had said. To what, Jim didn’t know. It wasn’t like Spock to make statements without explanation. To the ship, probably. To Bones, of course. But to Spock? Jim wasn’t so sure. If he was unfit for duty, Spock would take command, and wasn’t it logical to be self-serving?

For the life of him, Jim couldn’t bring himself to even think that of a man he’d once thought he could never befriend. Spock had no ulterior motive beyond serving his captain and his ship, and Jim knew that. But it didn’t mean he was the only Spock in the universe he could talk to.

He moved to his computer terminal and called for old Spock, smiling despite his tiredness when his old… new… old friend’s face appeared.

“Jim, I am most gratified to hear from you.”

“Hi Spock, sorry it’s been a while. How are you? How is New Vulcan?”

“Progressing admirably, Jim. I am well, if old these days.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Spock. You look fighting fit to me.” Jim insisted, and the peculiar smile on Spock’s face that he could never expect from his own half-Vulcan made him grin brilliantly.

“And yourself, Jim? You appear fatigued.”

“I am, I guess.” His smile diminished. “I told Spock about Tarsus, tonight.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. He didn’t seem to immediately decide I’m unfit to Captain the enterprise, so there’s that, at least.”

“Where would be the logic in that, Jim?” Spock replied, arching a brow curiously. “You are too hard on yourself. If Spock is anything like myself, and I daresay he is, then his concern is for your welfare, not just as the Captain but as a friend. We hold you in very high regard, Jim.”

“You say that.” He grinned again, easily. “It’s a lot easier to believe it from you, I guess. I don’t know. We’re definitely friends, now, but it’s difficult. I never know when I’m threatening to overstep some boundary. It’s easy with you! You’re not like him.”

“I assure you I am, and have been before. Jim, I know everything about you. I have the advantage of an additional lifetime with yourself. I know how to interpret your facial expressions; know when you need to talk or otherwise. I know you far better than my counterpart. That does not mean he is not worth the effort. Someday, you will know each other this well too.”

“Yeah, I know. I know that logically.” He smiled ruefully. “Thanks Spock. Sorry I’m so insecure.”

“You are young.” Spock replied, knowingly.


	3. Chapter 3

The ship was quiet. Almost too quiet. Spock stilled for a moment, listening carefully to what it was he was missing. Everything felt off and, dare he say it, he had a dark foreboding feeling steadily overpowering his logical thought processes. Something was wrong or, as his human friends sometimes quipped, he had a 'bad feeling' about what was to come. 

“Computer, locate Captain Kirk.”

“Captain Kirk is not aboard this vessel.” The steady voice replied in his quarters. A force of concern hit him like a wall, and then the silence took him again. He listened to the silence and observed the nonsense of stars outside his room.

He reached for his communicator. “Spock to Lieutenant Uhura. Where is the captain?”

“God Spock, I don’t know.” Uhura’s reply was slow and disinterested, and not at all the dedicated communications officer he knew. “You left him on that planet I guess.”

“Which Planet, Nyota?”

“Tarsus IV.” A cold dread washed over him then, and Spock’s chest felt both hollow and compressed at the same time. This was emotion in a physical manifestation; guilt and shame crushing his ability to function adequately.

The com fell silent again, and Spock forced himself to take a deep breath. Silence. He closed his eyes and brought his fingertips together. The silence persisted.

“No.” The word escaped before he realised he had spoken. It was illogical to speak aloud in an empty room; no-one was there to listen. Regardless, he continued. “This is not real.” A ship like the Enterprise was never silent. There was always the white noise of the engines, or a young ensign running to their duties down the corridor, or a computer beeping someplace.

Spock ceased sleeping and sat up immediately. It was better, this time, in that he had been prepared for consciousness. There was no lingering confusion about reality and dream, and so he had no urge to com the Captain and ensure he was safe. Or rather, there was a desire to, but nothing so intense that he couldn’t instead just ask the computer to verify that Jim was, in fact, on board the Enterprise. That was enough. That would have to be enough.

The sound of the working ship was, if not comforting, then certainly reassuring. It was a small blessing, considering all things. Meditation had been performed prior to sleep and had not prevented the mental assault; and as a Vulcan he had slept for long enough to perform at optimum for another shift. The only reasonable option he saw, if only his last option, was to pay the chief medical officer a visit.

* * *

Jim approached the sickbay expecting to convince Bones to indulge in a drink with him in his office, now that both of their shifts were over. He had left Sulu with the conn, and Spock would be taking over in a matter of minutes. Frankly, he deserved a drink. There was no particular backing to that claim, but he definitely felt it was earned. Regardless, his expectations of a quiet drink with Bones didn't seem likely to become a reality. He entered Bones' office to find Spock there already, sat by the desk and talking soberly with the Doctor. Jim's entry disturbed them both; Bones looked at him, irritated, and Spock looked decidedly more uncomfortable than the Vulcan was probably okay with. ‘Vulcan’s do not get ‘uncomfortable’ Captain.’ Ha, if only Jim could get vid footage of his entry. He'd disprove that theory instantly. 

“Oh. Sorry. I should have knocked. Sorry,” He turned to leave, pathetically flustered. There was nothing he could say or do to interfere with doctor-patient confidentiality, even if it perturbed him to no end to find his first officer and doctor actually talking to each other seriously, without looking like they wanted to kill each other.

“You need not be, Captain; I must make my way to the bridge at this point.” Spock stood also as Jim turned, straightening his uniform carefully. Maybe Jim was imagining it, but he swore his first officer looked a little paler than normal.

“Of course, Spock. Everything okay?” No, Jim thought to himself, because now Spock knew about Tarsus and probably thought his Captain was a wreck and that’s why he couldn’t quite meet Jim’s eyes. God he hoped that wasn't what Spock and Bones had been talking about. Bones knew far more than Jim had ever been comfortable with, for a very long time, and he hadn't ever told another soul. He wouldn't discuss it with Spock, surely?

“Indeed, Captain. My sleep was interrupted once more last night. I merely came to seek the Doctor’s opinion.” Jim looked to Bones expectantly, concern bubbling in his chest, but the Doctor's face was trained into complete professionalism.

“And I’m going to look into it and ask some colleagues, but I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.” He confirmed. “Which means both of you can stop worrying.”

Spock tilted his head slightly to the left in response. He, like Jim, presumably wanted to kick Bones for saying they were both worried about Spock. Spock clearly didn't want to appear troubled by his nightmares, and Jim felt awkward and embarrassed to be worried for him too. The discomfort was brief, fortunately, as Spock bid them farewell and then left, as abruptly as ever. Jim watched him disappear through the door and then took his vacated seat, aware that Bones’ expression had not changed. The Doctor might have been telling them not to worry, but something was clearly playing on his own mind.

Jim almost didn’t want to ask. He’d asked after Spock’s last nightmare, and knowing had only caused him more strife. He didn’t want to be the reason Spock was unhappy- or unsatisfied, or whatever bland terminology Spock himself would use. That being said, he was nosy and worried, and he asked anyway. “What did Spock dream about?”

“Ha, ask him yourself Kid. You know I can’t tell you.” Bones didn’t seem particularly happy about that, and though Jim thought that he probably could get Bones to tell him, he didn’t push. He'd put Bones in difficult situations morally enough to last them both another lifetime, and this was something he didn't need to know.

“He is going to be okay though, right?”

There was a beat of silence, in which it occurred to him that Bones and Uhura were both right. For god's sake, they knew more about Jim than he knew about himself. But recently, between missions and sleepless nights and meetings, all he and Spock seemed to do was worry about each other. Life was passing him by, and he felt mostly in a daze. His time consisted of paperwork and anxiety that one of these days, he was going to get his crew killed.

“Are you?” Bones snorted. “I know you told him about Tarsus, Jim. That was a big decision.” Jim didn't bother to ask how Bones knew, because unless he was suddenly psychic it meant that he and Spock _had_ discussed it, and that was a reality he couldn't quite face.

“Well, he _did_ need to know. As First Officer, I mean. It sucked, don’t get me wrong, but it was the right decision. For the ship.”

There was a long pause, a silence that Jim almost found awkward- would have done if it were anyone other than Bones. The Doctor leaned forward then, elbows on the desk and his solemn expression not budging an inch.

“I’m proud of you, kid.” He said firmly, “Even if you’re sending Spock insane because he cares too much about you.”

There was a vice around Jim's heart and it clenched uncomfortably. “Don’t be a dick, Bones. Spock just lost his entire planet and mother, I’m not the one that’s screwing with his mind.” Even if he didn't truly believe that, purely because Spock was worrying about him, it still didn't make him feel any better. They were friends- just about. It really hadn't been that long since Jim had hated him. Anyway, Spock didn't like him like that - didn't think about him so deeply. It was Jim who over-thought everything; couldn't get his mind to settle.

“Yeah, well he’s screwing with yours aint he?” Bones said quietly, eyes fixed on Jim as though testing his reaction. He knew then. Jim figured he would, but he hadn’t expected him to say anything. So he cared about Spock? What did it matter. Nothing would come of it.

“Not even trying to deny it? Nice. Personal growth there, Kid.” 

“I came here for a drink, not therapy. Can you?”

Bones leaned back in his chair, sighing. “I’d normally indulge, Jimmy, but I really do want to get in contact with some people to try and help Spock. He may be sleeping and operating functionally,” Bones’ voice was laced with derision. “But the boy’s never had anxiety like this and he can’t meditate all the goddamn hours of the day.”

“Yeah, no.” Of course Bones was right, and Jim flexed his back awkwardly. “Hey Bones?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” It sounded pathetic, and not at all Captain-ly. But Bones had known him since he was a kid, a wreck, recovering from Tarsus, and there wasn’t much the doctor didn’t know about him- much less anything potentially embarrassing like asking to sleep close to someone who cared. Just in case.

“We’re not busy, so I don’t see why not.” Their eyes met. “Go grab a bed, Jimmy. I’ll come and check on you in a minute.”

Jim nodded his thanks and left the office. He was too tired for false bravado or cocky remarks. He didn’t change, but climbed onto one of the beds and curled up on his side. He hated sickbay normally and the horrific memories it dredged up, but occasionally, it was necessary. Occasionally, the steady beep of the computers and the general noises of Bones bustling around took him back to the one time of his teens that he actually felt like a child, between Tarsus and being kicked back to his mother’s house. Bones knew this, and that was why he let Jim stay.

He’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for a few minutes, never quite reaching sleep, before he realised Bones was at his bedside.

“You’re a pain in my ass, Jim. Go to sleep. I’ll be right here, doing paperwork like a mug.”

Once again, Jim didn’t reply. Instead, he let his eyes flicker shut again and stopped fighting the tug of sleep that had scared him so much before now.

* * *

“Keptin on the bridge.” Chekov announced happily, and Jim flashed him his usual bright smile as he took his seat. They had been travelling for a few days before stopping at the Starbase to pick up supplies, which they were now tasked with taking to New Vulcan. It wasn’t a particularly interesting assignment, but it gave them opportunity for shore leave on the planet and, more importantly, it meant Spock could talk to his own kind about his emotional dress, as Bones called it.

“Good Morning, everyone. Anything to report?” He asked, swivelling in his chair to observe his officers. Uhura was busy taking messages, it seemed, and Sulu was shaking his head distractedly, even as he didn’t reply.

“We are set to arrive on schedule, Captain.” Spock informed him factually.

He swivelled back to the front screen, smiling lightly. He’d been sleeping well for days now, and his anxiety had passed eventually. Nor was he troubled by Spock, who seemed to have found his own calm from somewhere – perhaps the very fact that they were headed to New Vulcan.  Jim felt a quiet sense of excitement himself- eager to see the other Spock again after so long.

“Engineering to bridge.”

“Kirk here, Engineering.” Jim said, frowning slightly as he turned to Spock for his reaction. His first officer almost looked perturbed at the sudden, unscheduled communication.

“There’s been an accident, Captain. They’ve taken Mister Scott to sickbay. Doctor McCoy told me to inform you, Sir.”

“Thank you, Kirk out.” He was on his feet before he’d finished talking. “Spock, you have the conn.” He bound into the turbo lift, head thrumming with an anxiety he thought he’d successfully quelled days ago. It had returned in full-force, and he didn’t even know what had happened yet.

He reached sickbay in record time, nodding vaguely to an ensign sat on the floor outside looking traumatised. He kept back from his busy crew and assessed the situation himself. Scotty was a mess, pale and bloody, but alive. Jim trusted Bones to do his damn job and save their chief engineer, and so he stepped back from the noisy bay into the quiet corridor.

“Phillips?” He addressed the pale, wide-eyed young engineer who sat on the corridor floor beside the door. “Report on what transpired, if you can.”

“Yes sir.” Though her voice was shaky, it was not nearly as fragile as her physical appearance might have suggested, and Jim smiled encouragingly. “Mister Scott was making some adjustments; he’d climbed up from the railing. They were pulling some panelling back and he just let go, the edge fell away and – and slit his chest.”

Jim winced. His Chief Engineer had lost his grip on some razor sharp metal and was on death’s door for it. Not deaths door, that was ridiculous. Jim hadn’t even spoken to Bones but he had every confidence he had this in hand. But the situation itself was ridiculous too. How had the metal simply come away? It didn’t make any sense.

“Captain to Spock?”

“Captain?”

“Meet me in Engineering please, Spock.”

“Understood. Spock out.”

* * *

Something was desperately wrong with the ship. It had started with Scotty almost halving himself on panelling, and progressed to every accident known to man on board the Enterprise. He’d been calling it a plague of clumsiness because that was just about the only description that fit, despite Spock’s thinly veiled dismay at the term.

Ensign Phillips, who had witnessed Scotty’s accident, had broken her leg falling down stairs in Engineering. McCoy had kicked the wall in his office and somehow accidentally gotten himself stuck inside, the door system broken. Sulu had accidentally set a fire in the botany lab, when trying only to increase the temperature in an experimental growth. And Jim… well, Jim thought he was going insane. He just kept tripping up over his own feet, or anything in fact.

“We should dock at New Vulcan promptly, and assess the situation on solid ground.” Spock stated, sat opposite Jim and watching him with intense eyes as they searched and searched for some kind of scientific answer to their problem.

 Jim shook his head, “No way. I’m not exposing your entire endangered species to fatal clumsiness.”

“As I have yet to fall victim to whatever it is attacking your motor reflexes, it is logical to seek additional help, Jim. You are placing too much faith in myself and Doctor McCoy. What’s more, you do not seem hurried to find a solution.”

Jim huffed, “Just because I’m not panicking doesn’t mean I’m not concerned, Spock, but we’ve got it down to only one potentially deadly accident a day, and that’s tiring Bones and Chapel out enough as it is. Don’t you ever get the feeling that things will just get better of their own accord.”

“Hope in the invisible is illogical, Jim.”

The com on the table beeped dangerously. “Uhura here, Captain. Chekov just gave himself a severe concussion. He’ll be fine, but I thought you should know.” Uhura said tiredly, before the com fell silent once again. Jim sighed heavily and reached out to pick up his communicator. His entire arm spasmed without his permission, and he sent the device flying.

“Shit.” He stood. “Come on, Spock, let’s go find out what the hell is doing this.” He moved to the door, followed by Spock, and stumbled twice. “For god’s sake.” He muttered, standing up straight again. He saw Spock offer his arm and for a moment, didn’t understand what the hell his first officer was doing.

“Spock?”

“I will steady you, Captain, if you decide to fall again.”

Jim grinned. He knew for a fact that Vulcans didn’t touch and so, though he was careful to wrap his hand into the fabric of Spock’s sleeve, he did take Spock’s offered arm happily. “If I do fall, you may well get dragged down with me.”

“There is a 23.03 percent chance that you will be able to drag me down, Captain. I have superior strength and bone density, as well as heightened balance and-“

Perhaps Jim didn’t actually trip, but he did have a point to prove, and fell anyway. He imagined Spock toppling with him, and it would be funny and romantic in an old movie sort of way. Instead, Spock simply caught him half-way to the floor and set him back on his feet again as though he were a child.

“Perhaps carrying you would be a wiser solution.”

“If you’re offering me a piggy-back, Mister Spock, then you must know I have no intention of declining.” He grinned, knowing full well that his first officer must have been teasing. It made no sense, otherwise. He wasn’t sure what had made him think that now, of all times, Spock would abandon logic to make a joke, but he was still shocked when Spock turned his back to him in an invitation.

“Spock, I’m heavy, and –“

“I have carried you on multiple occasions prior to this without discomfort. As first officer it is my duty to ensure the safety of the Captain. In this case, that requires escorting you through the ship.”

Spock turned again. “If you insist.” Jim muttered and placed a hand on his shoulder to guide him into more of a crouch. He jumped up, wrapped his legs around his First Officer’s waist and his arms around his neck. Damn, Spock was tall.

“Comfortable, Spock?”

“My comfort is irrelevant, Captain. You are eight pounds lighter than the last time I carried you. I shall report this to Doctor McCoy.” Spock replied blandly, setting off at a reasonable pace. Jim fought back a grin; feigning annoyance.

“It’s his fault with his stupid dietary allowance changes. You shouldn’t be complaining anyway, Spock, it means I’m not weighing you down too much.”

“As ever, Captain, I remind you that your sustained good health is the utmost importance.”

 _To who_? Jim grinned. “Yes, yes, Spock. I know.” He couldn’t decide if he hoped anyone would see them like this; the Captain of the USS enterprise hitching a piggy-back from his First Officer. On the one hand, it would be a fantastic story to tell and the resulting rumours would probably be hilariously exaggerated. On the other hand, he was quite happy that Spock trusted him enough to even touch him, let alone carry him and make mental notes about his weight fluctuations.


	4. Chapter 4

They reached New Vulcan two days later than expected, but finally free of their bad luck streak- even if Spock told him off for saying so. It hadn't been luck. It had been a toxin emitted from a failed experiment that had latched onto most of them during trips to engineering. It had caused unfortunately timed bursts of muscle strength, resulting in all the bad-luck and clumsiness. They had managed to work out the source before any deaths, at least, even if Jim had managed to break his arm by simply running into a wall accidentally on his way to the sickbay. He'd been aiming for the door! His body had just sort of... jerked in the wrong direction.

“Okay, bridge crew, you’re now officially on shore leave.” He announced, after docking and systems had been checked, by turning to address his staff. “Enjoy New Vulcan, and remember what you learned in compulsory Vulcan studies.”

“Aye, Sir.” Sulu grinned easily, ambling to the back of the queue to get off the bridge beside him. “Any plans?”

“A few, yes." He thought of old Spock and smiled. He was sure his friend would be interested to know that his counterpart had offered to carry him. "If I can fit them in between the mountain of paperwork this week has left me with. You know how many incident reports Spock and I have to deal with now?”

“I’m guessing it’s over 50?”

“57 precisely, Mr Sulu.” Spock said, appearing behind them. Jim considered it a classic quip, for a Vulcan, and turned- grinning. Only Spock's eyes weren't remotely humorous and his lips weren't quirked in a tease of a smile.

“Captain, may I request you stay on the bridge for a moment?” Spock asked, and dread shot to Jim's stomach.

“Of course, Mr Spock.” He moved away from the lift once again, as Uhura walked past him with her eyes fixed to the ground. A communication then, he figured. His concern only grew at that, and he turned to his first officer once again. “What’s wrong?”

“Lieutenant Uhura just received a message from the healers down on the colony. It appears that my counterpart is unwell. You are being requested.”

Jim’s chest felt like an empty cavern, and no matter how deeply he breathed, there wasn’t enough air to fill it. He leaned back against the wall, numb hands steadying himself on the panelling there. Spock couldn’t be dying, that wasn’t fair. He was one of the few role models that Jim had, and certainly one of the few people he trusted. He had shared his mind with Spock and been presented with the knowledge that, eventually, he and his own Spock would be good friends. They were well on their way, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need other Spock too. Other Spock who cared for him so strongly; he’d felt it all. He should have been in touch more, should have made more of an effort to keep in contact during their missions.

“Why didn’t he say anything before?” Jim asked, almost childish in his anger. It wasn’t Spock’s fault - he knew that; the old man probably had a dozen logical reasons not to get in contact sooner. Yet Jim still felt cheated of time, as though he somehow had a right to know earlier.

“I could not presume to know, Captain.”

“Of course you could, you’re practically the same.” Jim snapped, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes to stem whatever emotion was threatening to pour out. “Shit. _Shit_! Did the transmission say anything else?”

“Only that you should visit at your earliest convenience. I would recommend urgency.” Spock’s brows furrowed slightly and, after a beat of hesitation, he spoke again. “Jim?”

“Sorry. I’m being selfish. He’s you. That’s got to be weird, right? God knows why he wants to see me, of all people.” Only he did know, and it was killing him. “You’ll come with me, won’t you Spock?”

“Affirmative.” Spock’s head straightened fractionally. “I am and always shall be your friend, Jim. Do not doubt that my counterpart feels the same way.” Jim almost collapsed, or sobbed, or passed out- he wanted to do all of those things. Instead he scrunched his face up tight, nodding in agreement until the feeling passed.

“Do you wish for me to fetch Doctor McCoy, Jim?”

“No, Spock. Just let him know what’s happening, if you could. We should go now, before-“ Before it was too late? Or before he lost his nerve and hid in his quarters until it was all over.  No, he couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t dare do that to Spock. Either of them.

Spock walked a little way behind him and spoke softly through his com. Bones' gruff reply was as good as a squeeze to his shoulder from his friend; warming and not quite enough.

“Understood, Spock. Take care of him.” 

“Affirmative, Doctor. Spock out.”

* * *

“You should have said something sooner.” Jim said quietly, sat at the bedside of the dying man. His own Spock stood a little further back, observing quietly. “We’ve been up there for days because of some stupid bad luck, and you’ve been down here-“

“Do not fret, Jim. I am not alone now, nor ever.”

“But you’re, God, Spock you’re-“

“Old, Jim. Old and tired. It is my time. It is only logical to accept it.”

“Logical?! You _know_ there’s more to life than logic, Spock, I know you do!” There was emotion and passion and fighting too; there was doing everything one could to stay alive.

“Indeed there is, Jim, and there is also a time and a place for logic itself. I have achieved all I have wanted to and lived a good life. It is a life that you, and you Spock,” His eyes flicked past Jim’s shoulder, towards his counterpart. “Have yet to live.”

“How can you be so okay with this?” He turned to his First Officer, desperately. “Spock!” And all Spock did was look at him, silent and solemn. Jim had never felt more human, more controlled by his emotions, than now. Both his Spocks were quiet and watching him pointedly, and he didn’t know what to do.

“You are very young, Jim, younger than I have ever known you before. It is logical to be scared, but trust that I am not.”

He didn’t say much after that. His breaths were shallow and laboured, and his eyes were closed so softly that Jim wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or just resting. He found himself edging closer and closer, his hands wrung in his uniform to stop him from taking the old Vulcan’s hand. The sun had set before he made another noise, the sound of him far older than Jim had expected.

“Jim…”

“Yes, Spock, I’m right here.”

“T’hy’la…”

The stillness that fell on the room then was too great, and it wasn’t until Jim stood that he realised his Spock had moved closer to him, pale and shaken. He didn’t know what that word had meant, and he didn’t really think it mattered that his last word had been some Vulcan mystery. That was the essence of Spock, in the end.

“Are you okay, Spock?”

Spock broke the stillness once again, nodding sharply. “I grieve with thee, Jim.”

“Thanks Spock.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Will there be a burial?”

“It is likely he will have left a request with the healers. For now, I must insist we return to the Enterprise. It has been approximately 23 hours since you last slept, Jim.”

“Has it really?” Jim laughed blandly. “I’m not going to argue, Spock.” He observed their deceased friend once again. He looked so peaceful, as though he truly was still just drifting in a blissful sleep. He didn’t know what to say, or quite how to say goodbye. He couldn’t even get his mouth to form the words he wanted to say. He looked for a moment longer and then left, Spock close behind him.

* * *

Other Spock’s final wishes had been for his ashes to be disposed of in space. Jim liked to think he would find his way back to his own universe, to his own stars and planets and companions. Or perhaps, if not, he would stay in their universe and watch over them always. It was silly, he knew, and highly illogical. And yet he got the sense that, were other Spock to hear his silly little dreams, he would do that peculiar half smile and get that knowing look, like he’d expect nothing less from James T. Kirk.

“You alright Kid?” Bones asked him, appearing behind him on the observation deck.

“Yeah, Bones. I will be. It’s weird, isn’t it? I think I’ve known more people who are dead than alive, but it still sucks. And it’s weird. Goddamn it’s weird! _My_ Spock is still sat on that bridge, like it’s supposed to be. But he doesn’t know me like other Spock did!”

“Yet.” Bones said. “He doesn’t know you yet, Jimmy. He will do.” His tone softened considerably, and Jim could feel him watching him concernedly. “I didn’t realise you’d got it this bad, Kid.”

“I don’t _got_ anything, that’s the problem.” He didn’t even have old Spock anymore, to complain to and laugh with, as though they’d been friends all their lives. It was nice to have someone who knew him so well without, like Bones, a pessimistic nature.

“You love him?”

Jim brought his knees up to his chin and nodded minutely. “God, this is fucked up. Out of everything, Bones, out of Frank and Tarsus and everything that happened with Nero, this is still the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“You shut your damn trap.” Bones sat on the floor beside him. “God knows I’m not the hobgoblin’s biggest fan, and I don’t know how you are either considering the fact he marooned you and all that shit, but that’s beside the point. You love him, and that’s not wrong Jim. In fact, it’s saved both your lives a few times over already. Tarsus and Frank and your mother - that was shit, Jimmy, that was brutal and unfair. Don’t you dare compare them to him. Like it or not, you need him, and he needs you too.”

“And what if we end up like the other universe? I die and leave him? Or if he gets trapped in another realm and I never see him again?”

“You’re not seriously going to learn how to be cautious when it’s something that could be good for you, as opposed to life-threatening?”

“Your damn right I’m going to be cautious. I don’t even know if Spock feels the same way, and I damn sure don’t intend to jeopardise our working relationship just because I’m,” He inhaled sharply. “You know what, Bones, forget all of this. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“He has nightmares about losing you, Jim. He breaks his own superhuman bones to get to you. He worries about you incessantly, and you can damn bet that you’re the reason he left Uhura.”

Jim clambered up off the floor, shaking his head vehemently. “Just quit it, Bones. I’m tired of this and I have a mountain of paperwork to do.”

“Alright.” Bones got up with him, placing a hand on the side of his head. “You’re alright, Kid. I’ll come check up on you later.”

“Yeah, sure.” As pissed as he wanted to be at his CMO, he knew Bones only had his best interests at heart- and at least he knew when to drop the subject. After his paperwork and the trauma of the day in general, he probably couldn’t afford to sustain an argument with Bones anyway. He had a feeling he’d be attacked with some form of hypo to help him sleep later, and he couldn’t say that he was sorry about it.

* * *

“I never asked, Spock, did you manage to see your father when you were home?” Jim saw the minuscule tensing of his First Officer, and he realised his mistake instantly. “New Vulcan I mean.” Damn. Shit. Home. What an insensitive, jerky thing to say- dammit! He offered an apologetic smile at his First Officer, who responded by offering him a PADD to read.

“Well we all knew that was coming.” He muttered, after scanning the report. He looked up. “Well?”

“I did, Captain.”

“And?” Jim handed him the PADD back. “How is he?”

“As well as one might hope.”

“Ah.” Jim grimaced. Spock's mother. Sarek's wife. “It hasn’t really been that long, has it? Sorry, I’m being inconsiderate. I know you don’t like talking about these things.”

“That is usually a correct assessment, Jim, but you are my friend. Friends do talk about ‘these things’, do they not?”

“No, yeah they do. You’re right.” He dropped his stylus and PADD onto the desk. “I’m all ears, Spock.”

“You are-?” Spock cut himself off, recognising the metaphor abruptly. Jim grinned at him, and he swore on his life that Spock practically rolled his eyes in response. “My mother was uniquely gifted in controlling her emotions, for a human.”

“I imagine she had to be to live on Vulcan.”

“Quite. Sarek used to berate her for teaching me human principles. They had agreed that my education was to be Vulcan. And yet in practice, this was the only thing she ever let provoke her emotions. I did not understand, as a child, why she was so insistent.”

Jim didn’t speak, but looked curious until Spock elaborated. He didn’t want to interrupt and, even if Spock did want to talk to him, it can’t have been easy for him. Jim could only let him go at his own pace, and be grateful he was trusted enough to listen.

“I believe I understand now. I went to speak to Sarek about the matter and he agreed, with hindsight, that the suppression of my human half would only have served to harm my development.”

“Hindsight is 2020.”

Spock’s gaze drifted to the left slightly, and Jim took the opportunity to scan his First Officer’s face. He didn’t often get the chance to do so without risking being caught, and it was even less often that Spock didn’t look at him directly when speaking.

“It is illogical to regret what has passed, and yet I find myself doing so regardless.”

“It isn’t illogical, Spock. It’s how you learn. God knows I have enough regrets of my own. We all do. It’s just part of life.” He would forever regret losing other Spock. Regret not spending more time with him. He had so many regrets, and it pained him that Spock did too. But he wholeheartedly believed his own words; it really was a part of life. He was only glad he'd survived long enough to recognise that.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim tugged at the restraints halfheartedly, limbs weaker and resolve poorer than ever. He wanted desperately to sleep, to pass out until this was all over and he could wake up in sickbay, safe and sound. He'd never felt like giving up before. Win or death. Win or death. Win or- god, he was so tired. Why did death, nothingness, sound so appealing? 

“Captain, if you would please keep your eyes open and trained on me.” Spock said, but the sound was distant and hazy, beneath a cruel ringing. Had there been an explosion? He couldn’t remember now. He made an effort to open his eyes anyway, and dammit, if Spock didn’t look worried. Scared. Troubled. No, no, no. Not logical. Jim must have been out of it.

“Sure thing Sp'ck. Anythin' you wan'.”

“Indeed. Then I request you keep talking.”

“Sh-sure.” He grinned boyishly, but the movement caused a stab of pain on his cheek and he imagined blood was probably streaming down his face again. “Ouchy.” He let out a tired giggle. “What d'you want me to talk 'bout?”

“Irrelevant, Captain. Talk and I shall listen.”

He focused on the pain. The pain was the thing that reminded him he was still alive. It grounded him, in the same way it always had done, and the fuzziness cleared slightly.

“We talk all the time, Spock. I never say what I want to." He complained. "And you can't lie, which is why it’s so hard. You get me? Like other Spock, old Spock, he just _knew_. He knew everything about me n' I didn’t h've to pretend. I think he loved me a little bit - which is fine, I know I’m hard to resist, but he had his own Jim. Bones says that I have my own Spock, but I’m not so convinced y'know.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jim strained to keep Spock in focus, but the images were blurring and fading in and out of darkness. Pain. Pain. _Pain_. “Because you had Uhura. And the ship. And you don’t know me yet.”

“You are mistaken, Captain. I know you a great deal more than you realise.”

“I hope so.” Jim murmured, but Spock was right. Spock knew his weight fluctuations. Knew which coffee he preferred before an early shift. Knew his facial expressions and his most likely reactions to being attacked. Spock magically knew when Jim was even remotely tired, and he always made a point of mentioning it.

“Jim?”

The darkness that washed over him was sweet and welcome, and like a warm blanket to shield him against the pain and discomfort that otherwise gripped him.

* * *

“Jim, kid, you okay?”

Jim winced against the sickbay lights, and they were dimmed instantly. He opened his mouth to ask for water, and found a glass pressed against his lower lip carefully, tilted until he could drink. It reminded him of the very first time Bones had treated him. After Tarsus IV, when he’d been a wreck of a kid and Bones had been an innocent, optimistic med-student. Or, in comparison, at least. Jim had given his statements and then slept for a week. When he’d woken, Bones was there, and he hadn’t been able to shake Jim off since.

“There you go, take it easy.” Bones sounded tired. Tired, but calm. That meant something terrible had happened. His chest seized painfully and he scanned the room.

“Spock?”

“He’s fine, Jim. He’s in his quarters. I made him go rest or meditate or something. Couldn’t deal with him breathing down my neck, questioning all my medical decisions.” Bones let out a breathy laugh. “You got pretty beat up down there.”

“You don’t say?” He grimaced. “I can’t remember much after – that. We were chained up?”

“Yeah, some really atmospheric little dungeon.” Bones had that look in his eye normally reserved for telling a patient terrible news. Jim felt perfectly reasonable considering the ordeal they’d been through, and Spock was safe too, so the only other potential outcome was a crew death.

“Just tell me, Bones.” He prompted quietly. “I can take a bit of bad news. I’m Captain, after all.”

“We lost three security officers, and a junior science officer.”

“Shit.” He sat quickly and swung his legs off the infirmary bed. “Jesus Christ. Fucking expedition trips without proper information can go fuck themselves.”

“I imagine you’ll put that on the official report?”

Jim glared at Bones darkly. “Speaking of, can I?” He waved idly towards the door. “I have to go be Captain.”

“I’m not finished with you yet- I was too busy making sure you didn’t die to fix all your little cuts and bruises.”

“Leave them.” Jim stood, brushing Bones and his tricorder away. “I want the Admirals to see some physical evidence of this shit-show for once.” He fully intended to let Starfleet know how pissed he was. Four lives lost, Jesus Christ. Peaceful and docile inhabitants, like fuck.

“If you insist. Just don’t let them blame me for not taking care of you, idiot. And light activity only, Jim. If I see you on that Bridge without Spock there to look after you, I’ll have you chained up in here before you can say the word hypospray.”

“You’re cruel, Bones.” He waved over his shoulder as he left. The prospect of getting in touch with the families of the deceased, writing his report on the mission and getting in touch with Starfleet was daunting, and his bones ached still, so instead he turned mid-stride to walk to where he really wanted to be.

It was unusual for Spock to not come to see him when he woke up in sickbay, or at least com through. If he was meditating it was understandable, and Jim didn’t want to interrupt. But his memories were hazy and Spock had been pretty beat too, if he remembered correctly.

The door opened within a moment of Jim’s arrival, and he entered to find his First Officer sat at his desk.

“Captain.” Spock looked almost surprised. “I did not expect you. Doctor McCoy insisted you would not wake before alpha shift.”

Jim grinned easily. “I think he might have lied to you to get you to leave him alone, Spock.”

“Oh.” Spock blinked. “I see.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally. You know what he gets like when I’m injured like that. I think he’d punch an admiral if someone was distracting him from me.”

“Doctor McCoy does hold you in very high regard.” Spock’s head turned fractionally. “May I offer you a beverage, Captain?”

“Tea would be great, thanks Spock.” He took a seat, assuming the offer was there, and crossed his legs on the chair childishly. It was warm in Spock’s quarters and the heady incense, whilst not overwhelming, brought about a sense of calm that Jim found remarkably compelling now that it was upon him. “You know, I met Bones right after Tarsus. I don’t think he’ll ever not see me as that messed up little kid.” He took the cup from Spock gratefully. The liquid was sweet and hot, and it warmed him like hot chocolate had once done after Tarsus. Only this was warming because it reminded him of Spock, not Bones.

“That would explain a great deal of your relationship dynamics, Captain.” Spock agreed quietly. “You are still injured, Captain?” His eyes were drifting across Jim’s face, and Jim could feel the tightness of his cuts, and the dull aches and swells at various points of contact.

“ _Jim_ , Spock.” He reminded, for what felt like the thousandth time. He drank again, deeply. “Yeah. I made him leave them. I want the admiralty to see. Not that they’ll care much, but it’ll be something, at least.”

“As you say, Jim. I have completed my own report already, but I offer my services to you once again for anything you require. I believe you should rest, significantly, before resuming active duty.”

“I know. I want to. I have so much to do. I’m not even sure why I came here, Spock. Maybe I’m just trying to delay the inevitable.”

“This is not uncommon in humans.” Spock tilted his head slightly. “Do you wish for me to accompany you to your quarters, Captain? I will work in your presence until you are able to retire.”

“Yeah, Spock. That sounds great actually. Thank you.”

They walked in silence, and Jim may have been stir-crazy, but he swore Spock was walking just a fraction closer than he normally did. He could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it took all he had to not lean back against him. He had seen brief glimpses of other Spock and Jim together, closer and far more casual in touch. It was so easy to imagine hugging Spock and holding him. Being close and together. But not yet. Still not yet.

“You are unsteady, Jim. Doctor McCoy should not have let you leave sickbay.”

“He didn’t have much of a choice, Spock. I have work to do.” They entered Jim’s quarters then, and took their respective seats at his desk. Jim on one side, facing the computer terminal, and Spock at the corner, working at his PADD diligently, without comment.

Jim watched him for a moment, waiting for the files of his deceased crew men to load so he could do his research before contacting their families. Nothing was okay. Not really. But it wasn’t terrible, either. He may not have had Spock the way he wanted to, but at least he had this. At least he had working at a desk in comfortable silence. It could have been Spock he lost on this mission. So he really, definitely, couldn’t complain.

* * *

“Good morning sunshine.”

Jim groaned at the light, pulling his blanket up to his eyes and twisting away from Bones bitterly. Then, the realisation dawned on him that he couldn’t actually remember going to bed. Couldn’t remember what- the dungeon, he’d been in chains- His eyes snapped open and he sat upright, hand scrambling to find Bones.

“I-“

“Calm down, Jim. You fell asleep at your desk.”

“I spoke to the admiralty and three of the families. And then I was signing… God, those reports were urgent.”

“They were urgent. They were also completed by your First Officer. After putting your sorry arse to bed, he did the rest of the work and managed to contact the science officer’s family-“ Bones held up a hand to stop Jim protesting, in horror. He loved Spock, sure, but he was still half-Vulcan, and not exactly a comfort to most grieving families. “He did just fine, Jimmy, don’t worry.”

“So Spock put me to bed?” He frowned, in some desperate attempt to remember. God, he wished he could remember. He remembered heavy eye-lids and daydreaming about hugging Spock, and then nothing. How sorry he was to have actually missed a perfect opportunity to hug Spock as he got carried the two steps to his bed.

“Yeah. Called me a few hours ago to come and check on you. I figured you’d wake up and come to me, but I forgot you sleep like the dead.” Bones tensed. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

Jim sighed heavily and then smiled. “Spock carried me to bed.”

Bones’ worried look dissipated instantly, replaced with a sort of faux disgust. “Most famous captain in Starfleet, you’d think you were a bloody teenager.” He grumbled, stalking off towards the door. “Of all the people to be lovesick over, you go and get doe eyes for the green-blooded hobgoblin. I’m a Doctor, goddammit, not an agony aunt.” The door closed behind him abruptly, and Jim was left in the silence of his quarters, still smiling to himself blandly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if I make stupid typos/mistakes.  
> Boy have I found some silly ones recently and I just know there's a bunch more I've missed.
> 
> Cheers


	6. Chapter 6

The voice in the room that had been tormenting them for what felt like hours rang out again, distorted and echoing, but the haunting words made themselves clear to Jim almost instantly.

“You have two earth minutes. Who lives, who dies?”

The cell wasn’t silent, not at all. Outside, there was ominous clanging and rumbling sounds, and within, Jim couldn’t seem to control his own heavy breathing. He stared at the trapdoor one of them was supposed to drop down for an unending moment. They were on a settlement of some kind, but he'd be damned if he knew where, how or even goddamn when. One moment he'd been stood on the bridge navigating a sudden storm, the next everyone on board the Enterprise had been frozen, but Him and Spock. Then they'd been transported to this cell, and escape attempts had been futile.

“Captain, I insist as your First Officer that I sacrifice myself. Your duty is to the ship and your crew, they require your survival.”

“Oh fuck no,” He dragged his gaze up to Spock instantly. “I’m not speaking as your captain, Spock, not now. Not this time." This time, the whole Enterprise depended on them. "I _already_ had to watch you die. Other you, I mean. And I’ll be damned if I have to again.” He kicked the wall angrily, and the metal clash was deafening. The noise centred him again and he took a deep breath. “You’ll make a better Captain than I was, Spock. And I trust you more than anyone to get that ship away safely.”

“Captain, you are wrong-”

“No! One of us has to die, Spock! Our ship and our crew, all of our friends, are in that stasis. Forget being First Officer- your job is to pick up the pieces after my mistakes. So you get off this ship, you save the Enterprise and the crew, and you won’t argue with me!”

“You are too important, Jim. The ship needs you.” The ship. _The ship._ Goddamn the fucking ship.

“Well I don’t want the ship! Not without you! I’m so tired of pretending, Spock.”

Spock looked at him sharply, and Jim thought he probably knew. That wasn't confusion or uncertainty, it was burning emotion. And even as Jim's heart raced and his ears rung, even without the ability to get any air into his lungs, he couldn’t stop the words. His last confession.

“Tell me how illogical that is. Tell me I’m an idiot. But it’s true. I don’t want the captaincy, don’t want to live, if it’s because I sent you to your death. I fucking love you, Spock.”

A beat passed in which Spock stared at him, deep brown eyes so expressive- so human, Jim could have cried. Then Spock had taken one long stride to him, and Jim's back hit the wall. Spock’s lips were on his, _finally_. It was desperate and close, and unlike anything he ever imagined- probably because in his imagination, they weren't in a life or death situation. Spock wasn't even losing control like he'd imagined. This... this was not a lack of control. It wasn't a wild abandoning to emotion. It was a very pointed, informative action. It was all-consuming and it told him everything he’d ever wanted to hear from Spock. Spock, whose body was pressed up against him and holding him so tightly he could barely extract his hands from between them to reciprocate, to touch his cheeks and neck and never allow him more than a millimetre away from him ever again.

A loud, deep chime broke them apart. Their two minutes was up.

“T’hy’la.” That word sounded familiar.

“I can’t let you die again, Spock.” Said Jim.

“And I have no intention of allowing you to step down.” Spock pressed his lips together in disapproval, but they were slightly swollen and pink, and Jim couldn’t stop himself raising a finger to trace them delicately.

“You are scared.”

“Yes.” He admitted, eyes flicking back up to his First Officer's. “I've wanted you for a very long time, Spock. I don’t want to lose you.”

Outside of the cell, a static crackled. Then silence came, like the engines had just switched off entirely. A familiar voice sprang from Jim’s previously dead communicator. “Jim, we’re going to beam you both out now, okay?”

“Bones?” Jim replied, stepping back from Spock and frowning. “What’s going on? You were frozen.”

“Just... prepare to beam, Jim.” Bones’ tone was quiet and careful; too worrying. Normally after grave peril, Bones was either angry and insulting, or angry and over-protective. Never quiet, like this.

“Understood, Doctor.” Spock replied for him.

Only a second passed, and then they transported without another word. The transporter room was empty, save for Scotty and Bones. Bones looked positively grim, though Scotty was his usual grinning self. Thank god for that, at least. That meant no-one was dead. It meant whatever weird frozen thing had happened to the ship had been dealt with.

“Good to have you back Captain, Spock.” Scotty said. Bones coughed pointedly, and Scotty stood. “Right. I’d better… go and… check some things.” He eyed the Doctor cautiously before scarpering, seemingly unaware of what on earth was going on. The feeling was mutual, Jim thought, as he watched him leave.

“Bones, you going to explain what’s going on?” He addressed his CMO expectantly, and a glance of Spock confirmed he wasn’t the only one confused by the Doctor’s peculiar mood.

“First things first, do either of you need any immediate medical attention?”

“We are uninjured, Doctor.” Spock said quietly and Jim’s frown only deepened at the dark look Bones shot him. What Spock had done to warrant such a look was beyond Jim. Then again, it often was anyway.

“You might wanna sit down for this one fellas.”

“Bones.” Jim repeated, impatiently.

“We all… unfroze… as soon as they’d taken you, I guess. After a lot of panicking and engineering going to town to get us out of whatever deadlock we were in, the voice came through again. Said we had to watch you decide who’d die- watch you turn on each other. They transmitted a live video feed of your cell.”

“Oh.” Jim’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

“Now, there’s no cause to panic. Only the bridge saw, and most of the staff were helping out in engineering; Chekov was here trying to locate you. Sulu actually cheered when you… you know. Uhura saw, though. I thought I should give you heads up.” Bones bowed his head lightly, and Jim felt his world shift. His crew had watched him and Spock kiss. Their first kiss, goddamn it. Jim looked to Spock helplessly, but his First Officer looked as bad as Jim felt.

“Thank you for your consideration, Doctor.”

“Yeah. So much for privacy, right.” Bones looked between them tiredly. “I want you to know that no-ones going to question anything. I don’t want you to feel pressured, like you gotta come out and make some grand announcement. There are no regulations against this. Alright? You’re… you’re both idiots, so help me god, but you’re my friends. I’ll be damned if some pesky aliens fuck with you, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks Bones.” Jim felt light-headed, and sat against the desk tiredly.

“Alright then. I’ll leave you alone for a bit, but I want you both to report to me at some point today for a check-up.”

“Understood, Doctor.”

Bones nodded uncertainly, clapped Jim’s arm lightly and then departed, leaving a deafening silence behind him.

“You are pale, Jim.”

He snorted. “So are you.”

Spock moved closer than he had been with the others in the room, until only a centimetre stood between them. His hand reached up and cupped Jim’s cheek softly, and he leaned in to the touch. At least, then, Spock didn’t regret what had happened. Even if they’d been watched, and the private half-Vulcan was still pale, at least he was still there.

“We should talk, Ashayam.”

Jim figured that was an endearment, like that other word Spock said, and resolved to ask for a translation at some point.

“We should. 2100 hours, my quarters?”

“Agreed. You should follow Doctor McCoy to sickbay, Captain. I shall report on the bridge.”

For once, Jim had no intention of arguing. He'd find out all the details from the paperwork, in any case, and he'd been on shift for ages before Spock had joined him and all the kidnapping shit had gone down. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Jim smiled tiredly and inclined his head to meet Spock’s, pressing their lips together in an embrace face more chaste than their first kiss. As second kisses went, it said rather a lot, he thought. Even as it ended, their foreheads pressed together and Jim felt as though in the place he should always have been.

“What about Uhura, Spock? God, she saw- heard all that.”

“I will speak to Nyota, Jim. It would be extremely out of character for her to be resentful over our relationship. In my experience, she has always been understanding and insightful over my feelings towards you.”

“Yeah? Well it can be a lot harder to cope with these things in real life, rather than in the hypothetical.” Jim wouldn’t blame her if she couldn’t stand to see them for a while, really. He only regretted what had happened; that she's had to watch them. It couldn't have been fun.

“Nonetheless, I shall speak with her.”

“Okay.” Jim pulled away. “Alright, I’ll see you later then.”

“Indeed, Jim.”

* * *

Spock arrived at his quarters at precisely 2100 hours, and Jim grinned as he noted the precision. He’d gotten most of his report done, and the ship was almost back, fighting fit. He’d forced Scotty to take a break from the non-urgent tinkering, though, as most of the engineering crew had been on intense active duty since the whole stasis debacle began.

“Hey Spock, you alright?”

“Affirmative, Jim.”

“Did you speak to Uhura?”

Spock took his seat across from Jim, frowning slightly. “No. It seems Nyota is avoiding me. Lieutenant Sulu advised me not to pursue her. It seems she left the bridge after we were safely back on board.”

“Well at least she stuck around for that. It means she doesn’t hate us completely.” Jim was exaggerating. Of course he knew Uhura wouldn’t hate them, but there was a potential for hurt feelings somewhere in there, and he was never good at dealing with people who were mad at him. It unlocked that overwhelming self-hate his childhood had afforded him.

“You worry in excess, Jim. I have no doubt that Nyota will be as good natured as ever.”

“I’ll trust you on that, Spock.” He smiled and dropped his PADD, leaning forwards with his elbows balanced on his knees. “We should talk. Before I jump your bones, I mean.”

“Talking was on the agenda.” Spock agreed quietly. “Your latter statement makes it somewhat difficult to focus on the prior, however.” It took a beat, but Jim worked it out.

“You mean I’m turning you on too much to talk?” He grinned wickedly. “ _Why_ Mister Spock.” He teased lightly.

Spock shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “And yet we do have important matters to discuss, Jim.”

“Then let’s talk. Sorry. I don’t mean to deflect. You’re hot, and today’s been pretty serious as it is.” And Jim was incapable of building and maintaining positive relationships with any sort of capacity to last longer than a night. But this was Spock, and he wanted to keep Spock forever.

“I am aware. If you are tired, we can postpone.”

Bones’ voice in his head was clear and condescending. _You’ve been pining over that green-blooded git for over a year, Jim. Don’t let a rocky start ignite that pesky self-destructive streak of yours._

“No. I’m fine, Spock. Really. Talk.”

Spock eyed him for a moment longer. “Very well. Some time before the voyage began, I became aware of my developing feelings for you. I terminated my relationship with Nyota but given your female conquests and significant attachment to my counterpart, I thought it best not to approach you with my findings. You claimed I did not know you yet, and you were wrong. You are T’hy’la.”

Jim’s eyes flashed with recognition and he sat a little straighter. He’d heard that word too many times now. “What does that mean, Spock?”

“It means,” Spock swallowed and his eyes, his oh so human eyes, were so full of love as he looked at him that Jim thought his heart might burst. “We are, and shall be, everything. It is a bond, something you might call soulmates. The significance of the bond in Vulcan is the equivalent of marriage.”

“We… we’re T’hy’la?” Testing out the word was far less difficult than he’d expected. The consonants and vowels fit as though it was the nicest word in the world. The meaning behind it, too, made him want to cry. “Since when?”

“I do not know. I suspect the bond may have formed in our fight, during the Nero encounter.”

“Oh.” Spock had strangled him. With his bare hands. Jim grinned despite himself; even this, this incredible thing, had the most fucked up start of any of his previous relationships. There was no justice in the world, it seemed. “Other Spock and Jim were T’hy’la too, weren’t they?”

“Indeed.”

“I like that.” He smiled. “The idea that we’re together in other universes too. Soulmates.”

“Indeed.” Spock arched an eyebrow, conveying a look Jim wanted to call warmth, perhaps adoration or amusement at his bond-mate.

“So this is it, isn’t it? No more messing around or anything. You and me, together, forever.”

“Yes, Jim.”

Jim stood. “Then I don’t believe we have anything else to discuss. If you’d kindly make your way to my bed, Mr Spock, I’d really rather like to kiss you again.”

Jim would have bet all the money on earth that Spock would have smiled at that, had he not stood immediately and prevented himself from doing so by kissing Jim once again.

* * *

Jim left for first shift the next morning feeling contradictory in every possible way. He’d explained such to Spock as they’d eventually dressed, and received a raised eyebrow and an affectionate, ‘illogical human,’ in response. But it was true. He was tired and aching, and still a little numb to the events of the previous day. There was nothing pleasant about being snatched off their ship without warning, through shields no less, and being locked in a cell with the choice of dying or losing Spock.  Yet he felt rejuvenated years from finally knowing his feelings were reciprocated. He ached in the best possible way; a reminder that he had given himself completely to Spock, that no inch of his skin hadn’t been touched and claimed. Finally, despite his bleak irritation at yet another near-fatal kidnapping, he didn’t think he’d ever been happier. He wasn’t smiling; didn’t dare on the corridors where ensigns walked and officers who might have been watching him and Spock on the bridge view screen. But inside, his heart felt brighter and each beat seemed to resonate more.

 _Illogical human_ , he heard Spock’s voice in his head once again and fought to keep a smirk at bay as the lift doors opened and he stepped out onto the bridge. Any compulsion he had to smile dissipated instantly as he looked up to see his entire bridge crew staring at him; Sulu grinning without remorse, whilst Uhura looked away pointedly, her expression blank.

It was clear, at least, who had seen the transmission and who hadn’t. Chekov was staring around the bridge confused, before looking back to Jim for explanation with wide-eyes. That meant, then, that those who had seen had kept it to themselves. Jim looked back to Chekov and coughed expectantly.

“Oh.” His eyes, if possible, widened still. “Keptin on the bridge.” He announced, smiling brightly.

Jim strode to his chair and sat, trying not to let the attention phase him. His crew turned back to their own stations without question, and everything seemingly returned to normal. Only it wasn’t normal at all. Uhura was still stood behind him, and he didn’t have a damn clue or not whether she hated him. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“Status report, Ensign Chekov?”

* * *

Jim was almost worryingly relieved when, three hours later, he was summoned to sickbay by Bones. Never before had he felt so unbearably tense in the Captain’s seat of the enterprise, with his crew and friends working around him. He agreed to head down in a heartbeat, handing Sulu the conn and darting into the lift. The doors had yet to even begin to close when Uhura slipped in after him, her face set in a deeply troubled frown.

“Lieutenant,” He began, wearily, and half terrified. She’d been silent all morning and whatever she had to say couldn’t be good.

“Captain, I need to talk to you about yesterday. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this and I need to get it off my chest.”

“Is this really the time?”

“The time? God, Kirk, we could have lost you yesterday. Not just you, but Spock too. You have any idea how scary that is? To watch those seconds ticking away and neither of you doing anything to try and escape. I thought I was going to lose my best friends!”

“You… that’s why you’re mad?”

She sniffed. “I’m not mad. Just upset.”

“Oh. Jeeze, Uhura, I’m really sorry. It seemed pretty hopeless at the time and I couldn’t… I didn’t know what to do.” The lift came to a stop, and they stepped out in unison.

“I know. I do. But the next time… if that ever happens again, don’t you dare give up, Jim. It’s never going to be a choice of who lives and dies, okay? When have you ever encountered a situation you haven’t won before?”

He nodded solemnly in agreement.

“Exactly.” She folded her arms crossly. “I’m so glad you’re both okay, Jim. I’m not sure what we’d all do if we lost you.”

“Let’s not think about that then. It’s not going to happen.” She looked up at him, then, and smiled like the brave young woman he knew her to be. “So you’re not… I mean, me and Spock…”

“Are you kidding me?” She laughed brightly. “I told you weeks ago that you and Spock have a strange relationship. I told you to speak to him! I guess I overestimated you, but I’d hoped the tension would finally break you and you’d just get it on already.” She smiled fondly. “Spock and I are better as friends, really. I’m happy you’re together. But that doesn’t mean I won’t break you if you hurt him.” Her tone was sickly sweet as she added, “Captain.”

“Understood, lieutenant.”

“I’m glad. I should get back to my post. I really am happy for you, Jim.”

“Yeah, thanks Nyota.”

He watched her retreat back down the corridor, feeling marginally more at ease than he had done before. He was a little guilty that they’d upset Uhura, in any case, but he couldn’t imagine almost watching them die would have been pleasant for anyone. Certainly, Bones had been unbearable the day before when Jim had gone for his check-up. Not angry, like Uhura, but quiet and contemplative, and far gentler with him than Jim really appreciated.

He entered Bones’ office to find his friend sat at his desk, working on a PADD diligently.

“You alright, Bones?”

“Not too bad, Jimmy. Sit, will you?”

He did so, trying not to frown. Bones worried the hell out of him sometimes, and now was one of those times. The Doctor looked tired and a little ashy for Jim’s liking, but the situation, whatever it was, couldn’t be too dire. There was no scotch on the desk and no dented or broken ornaments lying around.

“You’re scaring me, Bones, what did you call me down here for?”

“I just had Spock in here for his check-up- he’s fine!” He added, quickly, at what Jim could only imagine was a spike of pure fear on his features. “He’s fine. He told me about your bond. Technically it’s regulation that the ship’s doctor be informed of staff relationships.”

“Right, yeah.” Jim thought he probably did know that, at the back of his mind. It was the sort of thing one picked up on when hopelessly in love with one’s First Officer. “Good. I would have told you today, anyway. So what’s the problem?”

“I’m not sure you understand how big a deal this is, Jim.”

Jim stared at him, hard. Bones knew how much he’d pined for Spock. Of course he knew it was a big deal, it was a massive deal.

“Enlighten me.”

“Hey, you know I’m happy for you. But you’ve acknowledged and… consummated, a bond, Jim. Not that you would, but it’s damn sure not easy or painless to ever break a bond like that. You’re tied to that man in the deepest possible way. And god help you when Pon Farr comes along.”

Jim had read up on Vulcan biology, and Spock had made him listen to an explanation in the middle of the night so he knew what he was getting in to.

“Bones-“

“No, just listen, idiot. It is my duty to make sure you understand this, as your Doctor more than anything. If you ever officialise the bond, it will mature. You might be able to pick up on thoughts and feelings, and you’ll damn sure not want to be too far away from him for very long. Starfleet has a policy of keeping bonded couples together, but this is a dangerous job, Jimmy. Vulcans can survive the death of a mate, but I’m not entirely sure if humans can. We just don’t know enough about relationships like yours, or bonds. Do you understand me?”

“Spock is literally my soulmate, Bones. None of that shit scares me. Hell, I would have died for him yesterday. I don’t think it was ever really a choice.” He tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently. “What else am I meant to do? Break the bond? That’ll hurt a damn sight more than anything else I can imagine.”

“I know. It’d be easier if you did, but when the hell d’you ever make my life easier?” Bones snorted, and shook his head like he always did. “You know I’ll look after you right? No matter what.”

“Yeah, Bones, I know.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh fuck, fuck Spock--”

The fact that Spock had superior strength was an element in their relationship that Jim couldn’t possibly have anticipated before. Really, Spock carrying him around multiple times had given him an awful lot of fantasies about being carried to bed, but this was a whole other level. His hands clutched at the Vulcan’s neck and back desperately, as Spock thrust into him with a growing erraticism - or the Vulcan definition of erratic, at least. The feeling of Spock inside him, desperate and perfect, and the friction between their bodies, brought the release he’d been seeking all day. Spock followed, somehow still holding them both upright, and growling Jim’s name delightfully into his collarbone.

“Fuck me, I love you so much.” Jim grinned, when he’d finally caught his breath again. The words were a little hoarse from shouting, and the sound of it was immensely satisfying. Not just for him, he thought, but for Spock too, whose eyes had yet to stop being clouded over with lust.

“I believed we just did ‘fuck’ Jim, however I find myself amenable to a repeat.”

“Steady on, boy. I’m not even sure I can stand unassisted right now, and I don’t think I’m entirely happy that you can either.”

“This can easily be rectified, Jim.” Spock shrugged, and carried him over to the bed. Jim was set down atop the covers, and the sheets were cool against his hot, sweaty skin.

“You were listening to my thoughts then, weren’t you?” He grinned, pulling Spock down on top of him and pressing their fingers together pointedly.

“Perhaps.” Jim’s grin only widened; dammit, Spock being coy was not something he was prepared for. “You should be aware that I engaged in similar fantasies myself. Particularly after the,” His brow furrowed adorably. “Piggy back.”

“My god, I wanted you to fuck me so hard then. In retrospect, it’s probably a good job you didn’t.”

“We shall agree to disagree in this instance, Captain.” Spock said softly, kissing Jim’s collarbone. He wasn’t sure why Spock seemed to have a soft spot for that particular protruding bone.

“Sure.” His hands trailed down the lean muscle of Spock’s arms, and the expanse of his back, where a green tinged blush was sustained. Spock’s skin was cool and addictive. “Let’s just make up for lost time.”

“Agreed. After which, you must eat.”

“Huh. Always taking care of me, Spock. What on earth did I do to deserve you?” He was silenced with a hand reaching down between them, and preventing his mouth from doing anything other than groan deeply.

* * *

“We have to inform Starfleet of our relationship, Jim. Would you like me to fill in the appropriate documentation-?” Spock asked across the table. It was supposed to be the breakfast table and it had been; somewhere beneath their work were two empty plates. But they were the two highest standing crewmen on the ship, and that didn’t leave much room for breakfast dates.

“No, I’ll do it, but first I want to visit the engineer who broke his arm yesterday, and then I have a meeting with three ensigns about ship efficiency. Oh shit, and there’s the check-in with the admiralty. Maybe I can postpone that, say there's some interference.”

Spock’s blank expression was a beautiful indicator that he was trying to work out whether Jim was joking, or if he ought to act disapprovingly. Jim was sure that Spock probably disliked contacting the admirals just as much as he did, but he never complained. Then again, he didn't have to do if half as much as Jim did.

“Doctor McCoy has also asked three times so far this week that you attend medbay for your physical.” Jim winced. Spock and Bones had tricked him into issuing a ship-wide physical, he was sure of it. They’d probably slipped the form into a stack of paperwork somewhere and counted on the fact that Jim would sign it out of habit, stir-crazy from reading reports and Starfleet memos.

“You are being illogical, Jim. Mandatory physicals occur every six months, and every three months for you.” Jim folded his arms, realising that their bare ankles were crossed under the table. The sooner they matured the bond and he learned how to keep _some_ things from Spock, the better. “Doctor McCoy had specific documentation drawn up that Admiralty had you sign prior to boarding the ship.”

He was right, unfortunately. Jim remembered arguing vehemently with Bones over the stupid condition to his Captaincy. Bones had, of course, won, with the usual arguments that Jim was prone to illness and bouts of stronger PTSD after his time on Tarsus, and Starfleet really couldn't afford to lose him. At the end of the day, Bones just cared a lot about him and knew Jim probably wouldn't volunteer for medical assistance until he was truly desperate.

“Oh yeah. Funny the things that slip your mind.” He returned to his PADD. “Okay, well I can go the sickbay now, and check off two things there at least. I’ll do my paperwork when I get off the bridge.”

“You will have been awake for approximately 20 hours by that point, Jim.”

“Yes, Spock, I know. Unfortunately, that’s just what being a captain entails.” He stood and straightened his uniform. “Okay, I’ll see you later baby.” Then he froze. They’d been together for just over a week, and he wasn’t sure he’d used a single endearment in that time. “Huh. Sorry. That sort of slipped out.”

Spock looked up at him from his seat, a face of innocence and, unless the light was playing tricks on him, a dusting of green blush across his freckled cheeks.

“I said nothing in opposition to the term.” He replied.

“No… no I guess you didn’t.” He grinned. “Well I’ll see you on the bridge anyway.”

* * *

Jim observed himself in the mirror on the wall whilst Bones circled him like prey, occasionally prodding him and sticking needles in him.

“Hey Bones?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“What’s the scar on my collarbone from? Do you remember?”

Bones moved in front of him and inspected the old scar carefully. “I don’t know.” He frowned. That was strange. It was one thing for Jim not to remember; he had too many to keep track of them all anyway. But Bones had treated him for nearly everything in his life since he was thirteen. Almost 15 years, then, and Bones remembered every goddamn accident Jim had ever gotten into.

“Frank?” Bones asked, standing back and folding his arms.

“No, he never broke skin. Well, on my face a bit- but that doesn’t count.”

Bones rolled his eyes. They’d had this argument before. Jim’s opinion was that faces were delicate and bound to break; he’d lost track of how many split lips or broken noses he’d had. Bones, on the other hand, insisted that Jim just got himself punched too often. “Sure as hell wasn’t Tarsus. Bar fight?”

“Collarbones a bit of a funny place to get injured in a bar fight, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t discount anything where you’re involved, Jimmy. Looks like it’s been stitched up good. Oh shit- I remember!” Bones was grinning brightly. “It was your first Kobayashi Maru! You almost decapitated yourself, my god.”

“Oh shit, you're right!" In his defence, the simulation technology had screwed up and launched half the team face first into their stations. He'd just been unlucky enough to smack into a corner and screw up his entire left side. "How could we forget that?” He traced the scar with his fingers gently.

“Cos you've accumulated too many injuries to remember anymore, Kid, why'd you think." Bones grumbled in what Jim liked to think was an affectionate manner. "Why d'you wanna know, anyway?”

“Why?” Jim’s hand dropped down. “Oh. Nothing. Just wondering.” Just wondering why that particular scar was the one Spock payed more attention to than any other. Why that’s where he always wanted to lay his head. He still wasn’t sure of the answer, but at least he had a better idea now. It was Spock’s exam, after all.

“You’ve got too many scars, kid. And don’t think I’m happy with all these bruises, either. You know I have to record them. It’s actually going to go on record that the Captain of the Enterprise is a walking ache because of his First Officer.”

“Nope. It’s going on record that I’m full of bruises from sparring with my First Officer for recreational and practical defensive purposes.” Jim corrected, smiling charmingly. “And in return, I won’t get in touch with your ex-wife and tell her we’re going to be within beaming distance of earth next week.”

“I miss the day you were scared of me.” Bones muttered, shooting him a dark look. Jim simply grinned.

* * *

Jim crawled back up Spock’s body with a supreme sense of smugness, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’d gotten Spock to shout. And fuck, if it wasn’t better than he’d imagined it. Not that Spock had at all been quiet, before, but a shout was something completely different to his usual utterances and groans.

“You are incorrigible in your efforts, Jim.” Spock said, when his breathing had evened once more. Annoyingly quickly, damn Vulcan wiring.

“You’re supposed to say, ‘hot damn Jim, I didn’t know a human mouth could elicit such a desperate noise from me,’ and the last half hour of my teasing you would be like 1000 times more worth it. Not that it wasn’t already pretty epic. I’d do that pretty much daily, I think, if you still made that noise.”

“Fascinating.” Spock pulled Jim towards him and twisted onto his side, nestling up against his chest. “You are to be praised for your efforts. They were most rewarding, for both parties.”

“Hm. Close enough.” Jim tilted his head up to Spock’s, and let the taste of Spock return to him. God he was spent, but if he could travel back the hours to when he’d just finished his paperwork, he would. Just to do all that again. An endless loop of _that_ would be perfection.

“Lights.” Spock said softly, and the dim room became immersed in darkness. They shuffled a bit, and returned to their usual sleeping positions, with Spock curled up at Jim’s side. It was ridiculous really. He’d expected Spock to sleep like a log, he supposed. The way princesses were depicted like sleeping, or the way they positioned dead people. Just long and elegant and perfectly still. But Spock slept instead like a cat, contorting his body so he fit neatly beside Jim’s. Jim didn’t mind at all, tangling their legs and stroking his Vulcan’s back and hair easily until he settled himself.

He liked these nights. The nights that neither of them were working and Spock actually needed to sleep. He didn’t need as much sleep as humans, and some nights he meditated for a while instead. Sometimes he got into bed and stayed with Jim until he fell asleep, and Jim knew this for a fact because he always woke when Spock had shifted to leave the bed, but at least he stayed in the room.

“Hey, Spock?”

“Yes, Jim?”

“The scar on my collar bone. It was from my first Kobayashi Maru, right?”

“Affirmative.” Spock’s lips pressed against the spot gently. “I watched from the observation room. It was the first time I saw you. You were very young then.”

“Jeeze Spock, you’re like three years older than me.” He snorted. “If I’d known you were the one behind it, I might have just come and seduced you directly. Saved all this trouble.

“You are ridiculous, Ashayam.”

“Hm, you called me that before. After we got off that ship. What does it mean?”

“It means beloved.”

Jim wasn't used to the feeling of his heart swelling. He couldn't quite tell if it was good or painful, or both. He smiled anyway, because it was Spock. Spock was his protector, and his bond-mate, and that couldn't be bad. “Cute. Goodnight, Spock.”

“Sleep well, Ashayam.”

Jim thought he might just do that.

* * *

It was still dark when he woke, drawn suddenly from sleep. He blinked for a moment, ascertaining the fact that they weren't under attack. There was no immediate threat. Only the ball of heat at his side had extracted itself suddenly, and was now just a silhouette sat on the bed, tense and upright. He heard Spock gasp in a deep breath of air, as though he'd forgotten to breathe before that moment.

“Spock?” The word was heavy with sleep, but Jim forced himself up anyway, concern growing instantly. Even in the darkness, Spock looked troubled. “Lights, 20 percent.” His mate was frozen, eyes closed, but most-definitely awake. “Another nightmare?”

Spock was silent for a moment, and Jim knew he was trying to rebuild his control. “It has been a month since my last. I had not anticipated further occurrences.”

“Yeah, well we’ve not exactly had it easy recently Spock. They happen to all of us.” He lay a hand on Spock's back and stroked his skin gently, trying to push forward all the calm and love he was possible of. “Do you want tea? Or meditation? Or can you lay back down with me?”

Spock didn’t answer aloud, but allowed Jim to pull him back to the mattress and lay stiffly beside him. He wasn’t happy, and Jim knew that, but at least he was there with him. He stroked his mussed hair calmly and waited. Spock would talk, if he wanted to, when he was ready. It was generally how their relationship went.

“You do not speak about Tarsus, Jim.”

“No, I don’t really.” Jim paused and fear swept through him. Spock was a damn touch telepath, and if he was picking up on Jim’s own nightmares, Jim would never forgive himself. He wasn't sure he'd ever be convinced he could sleep near him again- jesus- 

“My dreams were my own." Spock interrupted, and soothed his fears instantly. "It is always the same as my first. Only I had marooned you on Tarsus. It has been the same way since you told me of your experience.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Spock. I didn’t mean to make it worse, but-“

“You are mistaken, Jim, I am not blaming you. You have made nothing ‘worse’. I am only concerned. I know that you speak to Doctor McCoy of these things and yet I…”

“Worry?” Jim supplied, before pressing a kiss to Spock’s forehead. “It’s okay, Spock. There’s not much that I _can_ talk about anymore. It sucked. It was bloody and brutal, and I did things to survive that fucking haunt me. But I survived." Just about, in any case. He knew that, Bones knew that, Spock knew that. Everything in Jim's life had always been a close call, but it had brought him here. If he was offered another life, an absent tragedy, he wasn't so sure he'd take it.

"I woke up after all the interrogations and interviews, in hospital, and Bones was there. First time I met him. He was a med student with a right mood on. He scared the shit out of me with all his damn hypos.”

“Some things do not change."

“Right.” Jim almost laughed. “It took a day for me to realise he was just about the best person in that hospital. I was there for two months, and he’d come and sit with me every day. He made me think I was a kid again with hot chocolate and books and stuff. Then they sent me back home and we lost contact for a bit. My step-dad was a bastard, but he died, and my mom went even more to hell. One day, outta the blue, I get this message from Bones asking how I’m doing. I told him the truth, told him everything."

"Everything?"

"About my family and the trouble I was getting myself in to." Jim admitted. He wasn't going to go into detail over that. Spock had read his file, of that he was certain, and he didn't need a run down of all the childish havoc that Jim wreaked through puberty. "He drove all the way to Iowa to check me over. Gave me something to fight for, for a bit. I finished school and kept in touch with him, but then he was in a rough patch with his wife and I was an awkward age. I didn’t want to bother him anymore. I was 22 before Pike found me and made me sign up to Starfleet.”

“You were reunited with the Doctor?”

“Oh yeah.” Jim grinned. “First day, I had an allergic reaction to a hypo. I’m seeing stars, and I hear this familiar voice telling me I’m a goddamn idiot for letting them stick anything in me.”

“He has always been that way, then.”

“That’s an understatement.” Jim squeezed Spock’s hand between them. “He’s been my best friend ever since I was a kid. If I don’t speak to you about Tarsus, it’s not because I don’t trust you, Spock. It’s because I said everything I could say back then. They’re just memories now, most of the time, and I have much nicer things to think about when I’m with you.”

He felt Spock nod against him fractionally and they were left in a pensive silence that Jim didn't mind just one bit. He liked being this comfortable with Spock; liked that nothing was ever expected from him beyond that which he was willing to offer. 

“Jim, do you still speak with your mother?”

“Not really. Why?”

“I was merely wondering.” Spock finally began to loosen up, and he curled against Jim, twisting towards Jim’s chest and pressing his forehead against him. “I believe my own mother would have approved of you most heartily.”

Jim’s smile almost ached, and he was damn sure he wasn’t crying. If only Spock’s mother was still alive. He knew that technically he loved his mom, however much it pained him to admit it, but she was nothing, _nothing_ that she should have been. Terrible though it was to think, Jim thought maybe he could have forgiven her if Frank had roughed her up too. If it hadn’t just been him and Sam always taking the hits. But she hadn't even been there enough to notice, let alone take the hits for them.

Jim pressed a kiss to Spock's skin. Now wasn’t the time for years old hurt. Spock’s fingers splayed on his hips, and he was certain neither of them had any intention of going back to sleep immediately. Jim definitely didn’t feel like sleeping, and there were far more interesting things to do in the dark. “Lights.” He said softly, and darkness fell once again.


	8. Chapter 8

“Spock? Commander Spock, come in please.” Jim stood, standing from his chair and moving towards the screen, as if that somehow might work. Damn away missions, and damn Spock for not letting him go! Spock was leading the away team instead, consisting of Uhura, two science officers and Bones. It was just meant to be data collection, for a colony that Starfleet had been too late to help. But communications had been out for nearing an hour now, and Jim was getting restless. Spock had argued, quite reasonably, that Jim wasn’t needed on the planet. That was true, it was purely scientific. Jim had intended to do his paperwork instead, but he’d been back on the bridge the moment that Scotty told him they’d lost signals.

“Can we follow them down?”

“I'm not certain we can risk finding a safe location yet, Captain. I'm working on it.”

Jim glared at his communicator, and then at Sulu and Chekov in turn- though they couldn't see him doing so. This was almost the worst part of the job. Not even just because it was Spock. And Bones and Uhura. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he said he didn't value the two science officer's lives just as much as well. They were all his crew. Still, aside from contacting the families of lost crew, the waiting was practically unendurable. 

“Transporter room to bridge.”

“Yes, Scotty?”

“I’ve located them and I can beam them up, Captain, but we still can’t communicate with them.”

“Do it! I’m on my way! Sulu, take the conn.”

The journey to the transporter room never seemed so long, but when Jim finally arrived, the away team were already there. They looked pale and a little shabby, but all conscious- and Jim couldn't see a speck of blood, red or green. They stood tall and stiff, brushing themselves off tiredly.

“What the hell happened down there?”

“There was an incident involving a force field.” Uhura said quietly. “Our communicators were disabled and our signals were blocked. It took a while to break the coding and deactivate the systems. Sorry, Captain.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? I’m just glad you’re okay.” He looked between the crew members cautiously. Bones was suspiciously quiet, and Spock looked… like he needed a shower, for one thing. “Anything else to report?"

“Not right now, Captain.” Bones replied firmly. “We’re _all_ going to sickbay now. No arguments.” He added to the others, who began to shuffle away morosely, before turning back to Jim. “Just wait and read the reports. No-one has the capacity to talk right now.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “If you say so.” He said, shrewdly. “I guess I’ll be on the bridge then… if you need me.” He added, glancing at Spock. Neither of them replied to him, so he turned and left, feeling moderately put-out. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it, but he could damn well accept that it had been a crappy mission. He’d been on a few of those himself in the four months they’d been travelling. The missions that you just wanted to sleep after. He just hoped that Spock would talk to him about it later, because he certainly didn’t want to see Spock have another nightmare.

* * *

Jim left the Bridge at the end of his shift with a splitting headache and exhaustion seeping from every pore in his body. He’d not heard from Bones or Spock since their return, and he felt like crap knowing that the rest of his crew knew how pissed off he was about that. He was supposed to be the Captain, and that meant not being goddamn emotionally compromised. What was worse was he didn’t even have any damn right to be angry, and yet he was.

He didn’t go back to his quarters. He joined Chekov for a drink in the mess, and it was only three glasses of scotch later that he plucked up the courage to go back. The alcohol, he thought, would help him drop off nicely. It had, at least, taken the edge off his unnecessary anger. Now he just wanted to hold Spock. He made his way to Spock’s quarters, almost certain that he’d find Spock there. Jim’s quarters were slightly bigger, and they did sleep there often, but Spock never stayed there alone.

Spock’s quarters were hot and stunk of incense, and Jim found his Vulcan sat meditating. The doors closed softly behind him, and he leaned against them for a moment, silently observing. The single light in the dark quarters illuminated Spock's face; all the pretty angles and sharp cheek bones. He was beautiful. So beautiful, Jim wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve him. Couldn’t understand why they were together. Spock should have found someone who wasn’t so deeply fucked up.

Jim took a deep breath. Now was not the time for re-surfacing self-hate that he'd long since buried layers deep beneath arrogance and intelligence. He didn't want his negative thoughts to interrupt Spock, but nor did he want to leave. If Spock knew he was there, which he always did, he hadn't made an effort to greet him or acknowledge him in anyway. So Jim stripped off and climbed into Spock’s bed, revelling in the comforting warmth of the room. He watched his lover through glassy eyes, until he couldn’t keep them open any longer, and sleep took him.

His sleep was disturbed and never quite real. It was one of those nights where he felt he hadn’t really slept at all, even if an hour had passed between the last time his eyes had flickered open. At some point, he woke to the mattress dipping. Spock finally joined him. Only tonight was different. Instead of curling up against him, Spock wrapped his arms around Jim and pulled him close.

“I would have no-one but you, T’hy’la.” He said into Jim’s hair.

“I know.” Jim replied. “I’m sorry. Scared.” Of how much he loved Spock. Of losing Spock. Of himself.

“I know.” Spock agreed quietly. “If Uhura and I had not been able to break the coding today, eventually you would have come to find us. By attempting to access the triggered force field, you would have initiated a self-destruct sequence. It is fortunate that we were able to disable the process before your patience broke.”

Jim let out a long breath. “Agreed.”

“I am sorry, Jim.”

“For what?”

“You were angry.”

“I was frustrated. That’s not your fault.” Jim twisted to kiss his mate deeply. “T’hy’la.” He said softly, praying to god he was finally starting to wrap his tongue around the word. He assumed he had done, because Spock was suddenly on-top of him and kissing him thoroughly.

“I would meld with you, Jim.”

“Meld?” Jim propped himself up on his elbows. “Yes.” The word seemed to escape him before he truly thought about it. “Yes, do it.”

Spock’s elegant hand reached up, positioning itself carefully, and then all Jim knew was exquisite.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Jim’s birthday, and so naturally the mess was decorated and drinks were handed around when his shift was finished. He had never liked birthdays himself and immensely feared getting old. He'd never really celebrated as a kid; his mom had always been away, and Frank had barely even remembered. Bones had sent him a present when he turned sixteen, and he’d spent the following four birthdays drunk out of his mind. Now he had a family in his crew and Spock. Spock, who had very happily engaged in birthday sex without question. It occurred to him now that perhaps Uhura had already taught him that particular facet of human relationships, but he didn’t dwell on the thought.

He wasn’t working tomorrow, technically. He wasn’t on shift, at least. That was about as free as it got for him. It meant he could get trashed tonight, and he was working steadily towards that goal. Bones was already four drinks ahead of him, and looked happily buzzed, twirling Uhura underneath his arm unsteadily, smiling as Uhura laughed loudly at something he'd said. They looked happy.

“Vould you like another, Keptin?” Chekov asked, for what felt like the tenth time that night, waving his empty glass around with unreliable hands. The poor kid. Jim laughed his acceptance and then moved to the dance floor, stealing his best friend from his communications officer for no particular reason.

“Hey Jiminy.” Bones slurred.

“Bones!” Jim’s limbs felt as unreliable as they had done under that stupid clumsy toxin, and Bones spinning him around repeatedly didn’t help.

“Hey-hey-hey; d’you remember your fourteenth birthday? God, that one was sad.” Bones' expression was a stark contrast to his grin with Uhura. Now he looked like he was about to cry. The memory wasn’t particularly pleasant, after all. In fact, it was one Jim went out of his way not to remember . Being dragged away from Bones and stuffed into a car to be sent home to Iowa once he’d been deemed ‘fit’ again. It had been traumatic on levels he'd not even discovered yet, even on Tarsus.

“They were all sad.” Jim countered, thickly. That wasn't untrue, but none had been quite as sad as the day he and Bones were parted. It had been a turning point in his life from steadily recovering kid, to a menace to society. Still, that was all in the past. They didn't have time to dwell on it now, particularly not as they were joined by Chekov, who brought Jim his drink. He couldn't remember how many drinks he'd had now, but he took the glass anyway and drained it, before handing it back to Chekov. “All sad till now. Now I’ve got my sheep. My shi-ip. My sheep." He giggled. "And my crew and my Spock.”

“Urgh, darlin’, you know I don’t wanna hear about you and the hobgoblin.” Bones protested, twirling Jim again as a

“Bones!” Jim yelped in false indignation. “You don’t know what that hobgoblin can do!” _To me,_ he added in his head, and giggled out loud again. Bones snorted in disgust again and spun him away, their hands slipping apart. He ended up barrelling into a wall of solid mass, that was somehow familiar.

He turned slowly, looking up to see his bond mate stood, an eyebrow raised. “Indeed.” Spock said slowly.

“SPOCK! Bones _look_ , SPOCK is here!!!” He grinned, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck. He’d done so a hundred times in the privacy of their own quarters, but never in front of their staff before. The paperwork had been filed, and pretty much everyone either knew or had suspicions as far as Jim was aware. There was no reason on earth to deprive himself on his birthday. The fact that Spock was a very private person didn’t seem to matter much to him now, but he distantly recognised that maybe it should.

“Yeah I see that, hot stuff.” Bones laughed, clapping Chekov on the back to stop his ogling Jim and Spock with wide, shocked eyes. Clearly Chekov still hadn’t been told they were together. Jim giggled again before turning his attention back to Spock.

“Spock, you’re so late! Where’ve you been?”

“I am precisely 1 hours and 27 minutes late, Jim, I have been working on an experiment.” Spock’s eyes flicked up around the room cautiously, as Jim pressed their bodies closer together. The half-Vulcan made no effort to move away so, naturally, Jim proceeded.

“It’s my birthday.”

“You are inebriated.” Spock probably didn’t approve. He’d never expressed any interest in the imbibing of alcohol beverages before, in any case. He must have known that a getting drunk was part of most human celebrations, though. Especially considering this celebration had been in the works for well over a week.

“It’s my birthday.” He repeated, grinning.

“You have expressed many times this week alone that you had no interest in celebrating your birthday. I fail to understand why you would say these things if not to follow up in practice.”

“Jus’ because I haven’t liked my birthday in the past does not mean I can’t try again this year.” He grinned into Spock’s uniform. The world was distant from him, he thought. Spock was there, and _hot_ , and very real. But everything else was like white noise. He looked up again, fingers working into Spock’s hair. “Bones gave me a book on biology.” He snorted. “There’s a whole Vulcan section. He’s cheeky, isn’t he? And Chekov and Sulu have been buying my drinks. I think Uhura gave me a hug.” He frowned, quizzically. “I can’t remember if that was real or not.”

“I believe another drink would be detrimental to your physical state, Jim.” Spock said quietly. “You should say good night to your crew and allow me to escort you to your quarters.”

“I like the sound of that, Mr Spock.” He winked, and pulled what he hoped was a very sultry look. Spock still didn’t seem impressed, though he did press his hand into the small of Jim’s back to guide him from the room. The touch was familiar and cool and, if he wasn’t mistaken, he could feel the idle thrum of amusement and concern running side by side within Spock’s emotions. Feeling encouraged by his growing capacity to understand the bond between them, Jim thought idly about all the things he’d like to do to his lover when they got back to their quarters. A lot of it involved his mouth. Or Spock’s mouth. Mouths in general. Spock’s mouth was very pretty.

“Gratified though I am by such thoughts, Jim, you are still inebriated.”

Jim let out a soft sigh. “Barely!” He stepped away from Spock’s stead hands to prove he could walk unassisted. “Look!”

“This proves nothing. I insist you take my hand.”

“You’re a romantic at heart.” Jim replied, both teasing and stubborn in equal measures. He took Spock’s hand nonetheless. He’d change Spock’s mind before the night was out, he was sure. He’d push Spock against the wall, and slide down his body, and tug down those Starfleet issue pants, and then he’d make Spock shout his name again. That would be his birthday present to himself.

“Jim, you are incorrigible.”

Jim looked to his First Officer and grinned at the green blush he found there. He wanted to maintain that for hours, if he could.

“You’re the one who wanted to hold my hand.” Jim pointed out impertinently. It was true, in his defence. How was he supposed to resist those perfect ears and hands, and the heat of Spock’s mouth like a furnace? He wanted to strip him entirely and kiss every part of him, and in turn be touched and held with crushing force, to remind him that this was real. He’d waited damn long enough. Watched Spock with Uhura. Fallen in love with him, knowing he could never have him. Now he did, how was he supposed to resist wanting him constantly?

They reached Jim’s quarters and before Spock could put the code in for access, Jim had him pressed up against the door and kissed him thoroughly. He should have done that the second Spock had joined him, crew be damned. God, Spock’s mouth was wet and hot and his tongue was heavenly.

“We are on the wrong side of the door, Jim.” Spock pointed out, pulling away pointedly. “You are intoxicated, Jim, not obtuse. You cannot truly think that I will be unable to resist your obvious seduction techniques.”

Jim folded his arms. He wasn’t cross. Not with Spock. He knew Spock was doing the logical, right thing, but he really was turned on, and he really wished Spock would just forget about logic for a night.

They entered the quarters in silence and Jim didn’t complain when Spock guided him onto the bed and helped him out of his boots.

“You’re really the best, you know, Spock. Even if you won’t let me suck you off.”

“Another time, Ashayam. You should sleep now.”

“You know; in earth terms we’re pretty much married. Or at least engaged.” He felt blankets being pulled up to his chest. “I danced with Bones and Chekov and Uhura. Wish I could have danced with you.” Maybe when they formalised the bond. Maybe they would have their first dance then, like couples were supposed to.

“I do not think Vulcan’s dance.”

“Huh? Oh. Well never mind then.” Jim smiled sleepily. Arousal faded into exhaustion and contentment, aided by the weight of his alcoholic beverages. “G’night Spock.”

* * *

“You should eat, Jim.”

Jim eyed the breakfast plate wearily. His hangover was a bitch, and Spock knew this. Spock had helped him up off the bathroom floor hours before and helped him into the shower, then sat him at his table and procured him water and breakfast.

“No thanks.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “You will feel better. Your salt levels must be replenished.”

“I’d rather have a coffee, babe.”

“You may have a coffee after the consumption of your breakfast.”

Jim glared, and stabbed at a sausage childishly. He’d made it halfway through his meal when the door buzzed, and Bones joined them looking infuriatingly chipper, if a little tired. He stood at the doorway and groaned.

“God, that’s a disgustingly domestic scene you have there.” He gestured vaguely to the table, and Jim and Spock sat on either side of it. Then he focused on Jim and grinned wickedly. “You’ve been drinking since you were fifteen, Jimmy, and you still don’t know your limits.”

“Oh I know them, Bones, and sometimes I know when I don’t care about them.”

“And how’s that working out?”

Jim turned back to his breakfast, only moderately mardy, and then there was a sharp pain in his neck. “Ow! For fuck’s sake, Bones!” His hand flew to his neck, even as he felt his headache dissipating instantly. Was it really worth it? He moved his chair closer to Spock, away from Bones, who was now stealing toast from his plate.

“Why are you here, anyway?”

“Spock invited me to fix your little hangover, lightweight.”

Jim turned, aghast. “Traitor.” He said to Spock coolly, folding his arms.

“You feel better now.”

“Yes. But that’s not the point, Spock.” He sighed theatrically. “Never mind. Thanks, I guess.”

Spock sent him a look that Jim supposed meant, ‘illogical human’, but didn’t quite fail to look like a rejected puppy. He decided he wanted both Bones to leave and Spock to learn that he wasn’t actually annoyed, so he took Spock's hand in his.

“God, you had enough PDAs last night didn’t you?” The Doctor asked, predictably taking a step towards the door, whilst Spock had regained his innocent look that said he knew exactly what Jim was doing and didn’t intend to stop it. “If I have to break up another couple of ensigns debating who tops or bottoms, I swear, I’m going to hypo myself into a coma.”

“I hope you told them to go fuck themselves.”

“No, I told them the great Captain Kirk has a real submissive ki-“

“Yes thank you, Bones.” He cut the doctor off sharply, and prayed to God he was only being sarcastic. Rumours about him and Spock were one thing, but rumours backed up by claims, never mind the fact they were true, by his best friend were another.

“I am perturbed, Jim, was the Doctor teasing?”

Jim reached a hand up to Spock’s pretty green cheeks and stroked there gently. “Don’t worry baby, he’s just being a jerk. Right Bones?”

“You both sicken me.” Bones replied blandly. “I don’t ever want to see you touch again, not till the day you get married. I might even petition to Starfleet to make your relationship against regulations. Or at least to separate you, my god.” He continued to rant, even as he left their quarters. His voice was cut off suddenly when the doors closed behind him, but Jim didn’t doubt that he was still ranting as he made his way back to medbay. 

“You’d think we weren’t his two closest friends.” Jim said tiredly.

“Are you not concerned about the spread of rumours regarding our relationship, Jim?”

“Hey, if I remember correctly, last night I practically ground against you when you got to the party. If I had any modesty, which I don’t think I ever did, now is not the time to worry about it.” He shrugged. “What matters is we’re not breaking any rules. No-one’ll dare ask us anything outright, and rumours can’t do shit. Besides, they’ll die down soon enough.”

“As you say, Jim.” Spock looked fondly at him. “I promised you coffee.”

“Yes you did.”

Spock moved to the replicator. “I am curious, Jim, how Doctor McCoy is so deeply aware of your sexual habits?”

“I never slept with him, if that’s what you think.” Jim frowned. Spock didn’t get jealous. That would be illogical, seeing as though he knew without a doubt that Jim was his entirely now. But there was always a weird sort of tension when it came to Bones. “I think I kissed him when I was younger, but I don’t remember. Well, I remember him gargling whiskey for an hour straight while I threw up in the toilet next to him.” And even so, that wasn’t his worst memory of being a cadet. The information didn’t really seem to shock Spock either, who’s expression didn’t alter as he handed Jim his coffee. “I lived with the guy for four years, pretty much. I don’t think there’s much he doesn’t know about me.”

“I see.”

“I mean; I don’t tell him about us. I’m not talking about you behind your back or anything.”

“I know.” Spock said simply, taking Jim’s hand again. Of course. Jim wasn’t entirely sure how he kept forgetting. The bond, he guessed, was more accessible to Spock. Though he wasn’t exactly sure what Spock could do with it precisely, and he hadn't thought to ask. It wasn't really a point of curiosity for him. More like a fact of life, and a persistent comfort.

“I felt your emotions last night, I think. Like a little bubble in my head.”

“The bond is strengthening with the time we have spent together. It will continue to do so until maturity.”

“When are you due Pon Farr, Spock? I never asked.”

“I am unsure. It would be my first, and such things are not spoken of at home. My mother tried to prepare me, but I feel even she was tentative in her approach.”

“She was human though, so, that proves it should all be alright.”

“You are too flippant, Jim. We do not know what it will be, or how _I_ will be. I remember being sent away when at seven year intervals. I remember my mother being pale and tired for long periods upon my return. I do not wish to inflict the same discomfort onto you.”

Jim stood, if only so Spock wasn’t touching him for a moment, and wondered idly if Vulcans understood the word ‘no’ whilst in Pon Farr. If Spock would listen and stop, or if his craze would truly strip him of all morality. Did his father, when in Pon Farr with Amanda? He swallowed nervously.

“I love you, Spock. We’ll be prepared - _I’ll_ be prepared, and I’ll have Bones to look after me, afterwards. As long as I have you, that's all I need.”

“T’hy’la.” Spock replied quietly and, calmer now, Jim moved to him and hugged him where he sat.

“Come on, Commander, we have work to do.”


	10. Chapter 10

Sometimes, in space, it felt like there was only ever boredom or immense fear. Jim was very susceptible to boredom. His whole life had been one long, drawn out search for adrenaline. Every ounce of common sense he had told him that he was an idiot for longing for adventure. The voice sounded like Bones.

Then, it told him what he really wanted wasn't the adrenaline. It wasn't the blood rushing in his veins. All he really wanted was attention. Like the stupid, selfish little boy he was. He was just an attention seeker. It was that sort of idiocy that had landed him on Tarsus, and everything since then had just been to prove he could. He could because he was alive. Win or die. Win or die. _Win or die_. That wasn't Bones's voice. It was Frank's. Jim ground his teeth until that voice shut the hell up.

He _did_ appreciate the appeal of domesticity. He did see the beauty in the ordinary, not just in the stars. He saw the good on his very own ship, when they'd had nothing dangerous happen in weeks. Nothing more taxing than transporting ambassadors and attending diplomacy functions. Jim smiled with everyone else when two engineers got engaged. He joined in on the debates about when Chekov and Sulu would finally act on the puppy dog eyes they were making at each other - Jim suspected they probably already had. There were a dozen other things to celebrate too. The Enterprise was up for like seven awards from Starfleet. Most importantly, Jim had Spock. He had Spock and he had Bones, and he could face anything with them by his side. Even the voice in his head that sounded like his abusive step-dad.

It’s just he wasn’t used to that. Oh, he’d had Bones in his life since he was a kid, but they’d been apart for the most of that, and Bones’ solutions were very often either medical or alcoholic. Whereas Spock… Spock was surprisingly willing to talk about feelings where Jim was concerned. All Jim had to do was ask. He still didn’t.

“Captain?”

He hated when Uhura’s voice went a little nervous. It always meant bad things. For someone so closely guarded and private, Uhura's voice told Jim more than he ever wanted to know. He swivelled his chair to her, as apprehensive as he deemed it necessary to be.

“Admiral Pike is requesting an audience with you. It’s both private and urgent.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, I’ll take it in the conference room.”

He moved quickly, taking his PADD with him and leaving Spock with the bridge. The moment he closed the door, the screen lit up and he found Pike smiling at him uneasily. It wasn't a natural smile. In fact, Jim's gut told him it was one of pity.

“Captain Kirk, that was very prompt.”

“What can I say, my First Officer has a good influence on me.” Jim didn’t feel much like grinning. He didn’t like the way Pike was looking at him.

“Well, for once I wish you were late Son. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”

Jim disregarded his earlier musings. Nothing interesting had happened in weeks and 'not good news' didn’t _necessarily_ mean bad news. “Romulans? Klingons? Hit me with it, Pike!”

“Jim, I’m sorry. Your mother passed away.”

Jim tensed. The words rung in his ears like the pounding, rushing blood of adrenaline. He didn't like it. When he spoke, his voice sounded as though it was coming from behind a mirror. “What? She wasn’t even ill. Besides, _you know,"_ The alcoholism and depression, "but she was fine. I only saw her a year ago.”

“That was two years, Jim, and it happened very suddenly. I just got word myself and the first thing I did was try to find you. Now you can come back to earth for the funeral-”

“No.” His head was spinning. “No, I don’t want to do that. There’s no need. Let Sam do all that shit.”

Pike observed him carefully. “Listen, you need time to process this. Go to McCoy, Jim. I don’t want you on active duty for a day, at least.”

Jim was silent. He couldn’t look at the screen anymore. He wanted to argue, to demand the right to his ship, but he didn’t have a leg to stand on. If he’d ever seen emotionally compromised, this was it. Damn it all to hell. He could tell himself he shouldn't have to love his mother a thousand times for what she did, and he still wouldn't believe it.

“Jim, you look at me now. Promise me.”

“Yes, Sir.” He forced himself to look up, long enough to agree, but the pity was too great and he looked away again. His heart was pounding and his ears were ringing, and that couldn’t be real. None of this was real. He was having a nightmare, and soon Spock would wake him and hold him until morning. His mom was a wreck, sure, always. But not dead.

“Okay. I’ll be in touch tomorrow. Think about it, Jim.”

The transmission ended. The screen fell black and, for just a moment, Jim let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. He didn’t know how he felt. Didn’t really know what to do either. Fuck his mother! Fuck her. She’d been a sorry excuse for a mom anyway. Those few precious moments of acceptance did nothing to make up for the rest of the shit. She’d abandoned him! So many times and in so many ways.

He threw his PADD at the wall with all the force he could muster, swinging his arm back as if to throw a punch; neither the dented panelling nor the din it made did anything to appease his anger. He knew it would be only a moment before Spock appeared, so he saved him the trouble and stalked back out onto the bridge.

His crew were staring at him, and none looked more concerned than Spock.

“Someone find me a new PADD.” He barked, not pausing to enlighten them any further to his mental state, and continuing on to the turbolift.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. The lift was too fucking slow, and who even knew if it was worth going to Bones anyway. He didn't want Bones, not this time. He wanted Spock. He wanted to sob and scream and let Spock fuck the living daylights out of him because there was nothing else. Nothing but him and Spock. Only his feet continued to carry him to the sickbay. It was almost automatic, and his movements were mechanical in nature. Mercifully, he found it empty save for Bones.

“Hey Kid." It was a testament to their friendship that he didn’t even need to turn around to know it was Jim; eyes fixed on his terminal and the Admiralty override displayed there. "D’you know you’ve just been taken off active duty by Command? What the hell did you do?” Bones said, not quite accusatory but curious nonetheless.

“My mom,” He swallowed painfully. “Died.” The word was barely audible; he couldn’t get it out or say it with any conviction.

Bones straightened up and turned to face him instantly, expression declining rapidly.

“She died?”

He nodded. “I can’t… I should be miserable. I should be heartbroken and I’m not. I’m not! I’m just so fucking angry. She just had to go and abandon me one last fucking time, didn’t she? She really didn’t know when she was being selfish. Well fuck her! I hope she’s happy with Frank now, wherever the fuck they are.” He kicked the wall. “All my life, Bones, all my fucking life!”

“I know, Kid.”

“She never did a damn thing to stop him!” He hated himself for the tears welling up in his eyes without his permission. He couldn’t stand to cry for her, and he couldn’t stop himself either.

“I hate her! I don’t want to go back to earth, I don’t want to act like she was some goddamn saint now that she’s dead. I don’t want to see fucking Sam or Dad’s grave, or any of it! I’m so fucking angry! Why now?! Why, Bones?” The anger, the need to kick and beat and pound, was gone, and Bones was hugging him as he sobbed violently.

“I know you’re angry, Kid. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to be upset. Hey-” Jim slipped from his grip onto the floor, pulling his legs close to his chest and burying his face into his knees. God, _none_ of this was okay. Why was he so upset? He didn’t want to be this upset.

“Get him onto the bed, would you?”

Jim looked up, trying and failing to swallow a sob. He didn’t want some nurse to see him like this- but it wasn’t a nurse. It was Spock. His bondmate picked him off the floor like he was weightless, and eased him onto a bed without a word. Just an intense look that Jim couldn’t decipher.

“She’ll never meet you, Spock. She didn’t even know you existed. That I was happy.” She’d never once asked if he was happy, his whole life. “She won’t be at our bonding or wedding or whatever. She probably would have disapproved, and it would have killed me, but I’d still have you so she could go suck it.”

Spock looked uncertain, perplexed even. “You do have me.”

“Jimmy, you want something to help you sleep?” Bones interrupted them, re-appearing with his hypo. But Jim felt calmer now that Spock was here and still holding his hand.

“No, no, I want to go back to my quarters I think. I…” He turned to Spock. “Can you put Scotty on the bridge for a bit?” He didn’t want to leave Spock now; didn’t want Spock to go.

“I’ll do it.” Bones said quietly. “You take him back, Spock, and look after him.”

“Affirmative, Doctor.” Spock helped Jim off the bed, even took most of his shaky weight as they slowly made their way back to their quarters. Jim didn’t care about the few ensigns that saw them, didn’t care he probably looked like hell, with a tear-streaked, blotchy face, and a Vulcan behind him to prop him up.

Spock’s quarters were warm and still smelled like Spock’s incense, and it was probably precisely for that reason that Spock led them there. Or that they were closer. Either way, Jim appreciated the decision immensely. Spock was quiet as he helped Jim onto the bed, then went to fetch him water and tea.

“Are you alright Spock?” Jim asked finally. It wasn’t uncommon for Spock to go silent after large displays of emotion, but this was just him. He hoped he hadn’t freaked him out.

“I believe, given the circumstances, it is I that should be asking you that.”

“Spock?” Jim repeated, frowning.

His bond mate sat beside Jim’s feet on the bed, turning awkwardly to him. “This is the fifth time that you have gone to Doctor McCoy to talk about your present emotions rather than come to me.” He held a hand up to stop Jim from talking. “I am aware that he is your best friend and that he has known you for a much more significant time frame, and yet I wonder if you find me deficient in the emotional aspect of our relationship.”

“What?” Jim scrambled closer to Spock. “No, no I don’t, Spock. Hell, you can read my mind most of the time. If there’s anyone who understands what I’m going through, it’s you.” He sighed. “I went to Bones precisely because I was angry, Spock. Bones has seen me at my worst, and he did know me and my mom.”

This wasn’t going the way he’d wanted it to. He squeezed Spock’s wrist tightly. “I love you, Spock, more than anything in the world. And I promise I’ll try to talk to you more about stuff.” God he was tired. “I promise.” He repeated, solemnly, and Spock nodded.

“Do you know how much I love you, Spock? You told me your mother would have approved of me, and it killed me, because I’m not sure mine would. Would have. She was so happy when my brother got married. Pretty girl. Kid on the way. All I was at the time was a first year cadet with a habit of getting pissed every night and going to the academy with a hangover the next day.”

“When you meet my father again, he will approve of us enough for both our mothers.”

“You think?” Jim smiled tiredly, shuffling back down the bed with Spock and curling up into his side, as Spock usually did. “I can’t wait to formalise our bond, you know. I’m so lucky to have you, Spock.”

“I would argue likewise.”

Jim almost laughed. God, crying was exhausting. “Not so logical then.”

“Sleep, ashayam. I will be here until you wake.”

“Love you.”

A beat passed. Jim closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Spock. “I love you, also.” Spock replied softly, and Jim’s heart hurt in both the best and worst possible way. His mother was gone, finally, in a way there was never any hope of resolution. No happy ending for them. But Spock had just admitted, in human no less, that he loved him. He’d known it for some time, but Spock had never spoken it before. Not that it mattered now.

Spock loved him.


	11. Chapter 11

Jim wasn’t sure how, but the crew seemed more infuriatingly aware of the fact that his mother had died than he still relatively new relationship with Spock. The stares and whispers were no longer giggled or blushing, they were pitiful. Pity from his subordinates was one thing he couldn't stand for, but his anger was only met with more grief. Bones and Nurse Chapel acting as if it were just his grief bursting out, rather than his sheer loathing at having other people know his supposed emotions. He wasn't grieving his mother's death. Maybe what her life should have been. What _his_ life could have been, with her. No. He liked his life. Screw her. He decided they wouldn’t be returning to earth for the funeral. He’d declined Pike’s offer without remorse, actually feeling much calmer about the decision than he’d ever anticipated he would. He’d told Pike with Spock by his side, and then accepted the additional day’s inactive duty to rest up a little more. He didn't love the idea of more time off, but it was necessary. He’d spent hours talking himself hoarse to Spock. He'd spoke all night about his Mother. Sam. A little about Frank. Spock had listened carefully, occasionally interjecting his own memories, and holding Jim closely. When sleep had finally claimed him again, it had been with minimal resistance.

So maybe it wasn’t okay. Maybe nothing was okay. But it was still fine. He was fine.

He found himself wandering the corridors of the enterprise with nothing to do. He’d rested all he physically could. Bones was busy operating on an ensign who somehow got appendicitis without reporting anything. No-one else was off duty, so he made his way down to engineering for old times’ sake. Scotty didn’t look at him with pity. He grinned, hid his moonshine in his office, and then handed Jim a screwdriver.

“You know what ter do, Cap’n.”

Jim grinned and sat himself down on the floor to begin removing the panelling. This was only basic stuff; stuff he’d known how to do since the first week of his engineering course - if only then. But it was distracting, and listening to Scotty and his team humming a horrific cacophony of supposedly classical musicians had him howling with laughter.

“Bridge to engineering.”

Jim clambered up off the floor. “Kirk here, Spock.”

“Captain?” He could just imagine the look of confusion on Spock’s face as to why Jim was out of bed. “We are receiving a distress call from a carrier vessel-“

“I’m heading to the bridge, Spock. Do what you gotta do.”

“Understood. Spock out.”

* * *

The distress call had been for an evacuation of a carrier vessel under attack from a computer virus that was turning all weapons systems to anyone who tried to help them. Consequently, the Enterprise found itself under attack. They had tried to beam aboard. Tried to disable the systems. Eventually, Jim made the call to save his own ship rather than the carrier. There were no survivors as the ship’s auto-destruct system activated, and the enterprise lost three crewmen.

The medbay was overrun with the injured. Jim had sprained his wrist in a violent fall, but he wasn’t about to complain. It wasn’t the first time he’d sprained his wrist, and he could damn well cope with the pain until he’d gotten the ship safely away and coordinated with his office heads. He didn't account for Spock, however. Of course Spock could tell he was injured immediately, and of course he didn't have the human sense to let it slide for the time being.

“You are hurt, Captain.”

Jim almost lied and brushed Spock off, but guilt reared it's head and he found his lips drawn tightly together. He'd done enough of not telling Spock when he was hurting, physical or otherwise. He could feel a distant thrum of dissatisfaction from Spock in their bond. Or perhaps that was a headache. He wasn’t sure. Either way, he nodded briefly.

“I am, Commander, but it can wait for now.” He looked over Spock’s shoulder, frowning. “But Uhura just passed out at her station. Will you take her to sickbay?”

Spock looked around quickly. “Yes, Captain.” He scooped Uhura up with ease, though he didn’t look happy about it. He didn’t argue, in any case, and quickly made his way to the lift, ensigns taking their respective places silently.

“Fantastic.” He muttered, rubbing his temple. Three dead- of only their own. This had been a royal fuck up of a day. “Status report, someone?”

* * *

“Happy first day of shore leave, baby.” Jim grinned as Spock’s eyes opened. Normally, Spock always woke first, but Jim had been awake for hours. A mountain of paperwork and scheduling and conferences with the admiralty had fucked up his sleep ever since their botched rescue attempt. Besides, he was so excited about reaching the federation planet in the middle of the night that he’d gone to the bridge to oversee their arrival.

“You are a baffling human.” Spock replied, blinking rapidly. Even so, he sat up and took the cup of tea that Jim offered him without complaint. It probably wasn't a very Vulcan idea to have breakfast in bed, or just tea at that, but Spock had picked up many human traits- even just since Jim had known him. The idea that Spock actually enjoyed them made Jim's cheeks hurt from smiling.

“I know. So I’m thinking we go for a nice romantic walk today, then dinner in a cool restaurant, then back to the ship for a marathon shouting session.” – Jim’s favourite way to refer to sex in front of other people. Going by the way Bones’ eyes had started to narrow at the word, he figured people were beginning to catch on.

“Anything you want, Ashayam.”

“Good.” Jim grinned and took Spock’s free hand, tracing his fingers along the creases he found.

“And what of the rest of Shore Leave?” He asked quietly, observing their hands through dark eyes. Jim couldn’t help but grin.

“I said a marathon, didn’t I?”

“You are insatiable.”

Jim replied only by raising Spock’s hand to his mouth and kissing his knuckles.

“You are aware that Vulcan hands are sensitive.”

He nodded softly in response and his tongue darted out, capturing the tip of Spock’s index finger. His half-Vulcan’s breath stilted and he placed his cup down quickly, pale green spreading across his high cheekbones.

“Oh this is going to be all kinds of fun.” He murmured, straddling Spock’s lap and taking his hand again. “Can I make you shout do you think?” He asked, licking his thumb and forefinger. “Can I make you lose control, T’hy’la?”

“If anyone could, Jim, I do not doubt it would be you.”

“Hm.” Jim smirked. “That sounds awfully like a challenge, Commander.” With that, he sucked in Spock’s forefinger and middle finger, lathering them with saliva and caressing them with his tongue. With his own hands free to prepare himself, and Spock’s lustful eyes trained on his mouth, he was certain it was a challenge he was going to meet.

* * *

The six-month anniversary of the start of their mission found Jim wide-awake when he should have been sleeping. He slipped from Spock’s loose grip and made his way to the observation deck to watch the stars. The stars were most of the reason he’d followed Pike to Starfleet, but they meant even more now. He imagined his father was one of those stars, and Spock too. Other Spock. But one day, he and his Spock would join them too. Years from now. They’d do another mission or two, he liked to think, and hopefully bond sometime soon. One day they’d settle on a planet somewhere, probably, and maybe get a dog and a cat and a horse.

He’d like that.

“Jim?”

He didn’t turn at Spock’s voice. He should have known that Spock would come to find him eventually. But he held his hand out for Spock to take, and leaned back against Spock’s legs when he came to stand behind him.

“Couldn’t sleep, sorry.”

“There is no need to apologise. Vulcans require less rest-“

“Than humans. Yes, I know.” He smiled. “I’m just thinking.”

“About what, ashayam?” Spock sat down behind him, and Jim leaned back into his chest then. It was downtime on the ship and highly unlike anyone would come looking for them, or accidentally find them, sat so intimately.

“Life.” He shrugged. “I always had this mind set of win or die, ever since I can remember. When Frank was beating on me, I always tried so hard not to cry. If I didn’t cry, I won. And if I died, I died.” He could feel Spock tense; feel his dislike of Frank. Spock didn’t say anything; only held Jim a little tighter. “It just got stronger on Tarsus. I could do terrible things. I could attack and kill, if I had to, because I’d win. If I died, I died.” He repeatedly blandly. “All my life I never cared about being okay. Okay and winning were different things. Now I’m okay. I’m more than okay. I don’t want to die anymore, Spock. I don’t have a death wish.”

“I am glad.”

“Right?” Jim chuckled tiredly. “But I spent so long not feeling like that, sometimes I forget that things have changed. Sam aside, you’re all I’ve got. You’re my family.”

“You are safe, ashayam, and loved.”

Jim smiled softly, melancholy retreating rapidly. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that.”

“I will never cease saying it.” Spock replied, softly. “In my youth, I struggled with my heritage. I have told you before that mixed parentage was seen as a disadvantage and I was often reminded of this fact. Here, I do not pay that facet of my genes a second thought. This ship and crew, Doctor McCoy aside, are family.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right Spock.” He smiled wearily. “We’ll formalise the bond soon, right? I hope so.” He said, without waiting for a reply. “How d’you feel about dogs?”

* * *

“Oh god, will you just go to the mess and get drunk with Chekov? I thought the lovesick thing would die down after you and Spock finally sucked-face.”

Jim snorted. “More like sucked-“

“Don’t you DARE finish that sentence.” Bones interrupted, glaring at him brilliantly. Jim couldn’t help but throw his head back in laughter. Bones really was too easy to provoke. His best friend had never cared to hear about his sexual exploits – probably because Jim had been a kid when they met, he figured. He sort of felt the same way about Chekov, not that the ensign was so crude as to brag the way Jim did to Bones.

“Look, I’m just saying, it’s been months now. What if he doesn’t want to formalise the bond with me? He never even mentions it most of the time.”

“And have you asked _him_ about this?”

“No.” Jim shrugged. “That’s why I’m here, silly. What do you think he wants from the future?”

“My god. Captain James Tiberius Kirk, the biggest idiot in the galaxy.” Bones said dramatically. “Go. And. Talk. To. Spock. You. Moron.”

Jim blinked. “Ah fine. He probably won’t like that I tried to ask you anyway. He gives perfectly logical reasons, but I swear he’s jealous of you sometimes. Not like, threatened, but just upset that he didn’t know my past as well as you did for a while.”

“Well, Vulcans form bonds at seven. He’s probably not used to not knowing all there is to know about a mate.”

“He managed fine with Uhura.” Jim wasn't bitter. He didn't know the ins and outs of Spock's relationship with Uhura. All he knew was whenever he'd seen them together, they'd seemed perfectly happy and functional. Still, they'd broken up long before Jim and Spock had gotten together anyway, so it was nothing to do with him. Bones seemed to think so too, glaring at him as though he was dirt on the ground.

“If I have to say this again, I’m going to knock you on conscious and lock you in a room together. Go talk to your bondmate.”

Jim sighed theatrically. “Yes Bones.” 

* * *

Water was a luxury that Jim revelled in every chance he got. But water showers with Spock were something else entirely. Back against the tiles, hair sopping against his face, he submerged his hands into Spock’s own wet hair and tried desperately hard not to thrust into his face as he got sucked off.

“Spock- Shit!” He panted heavily, legs unsteady beneath him as the white hot bliss of orgasm racked through him. Spock’s mouth around him was hot and deep, and coaxed him through his high until finally, carefully, slipping off him.

“You are most vocal this morning.”

“I am?” He laughed breathily. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Jim, you shouted even as _I_ achieved orgasm.”

“Well of course. You’re hot, Spock.”

Spock did his almost smile and took Jim’s hand to help him off the floor. It had been a particularly pleasant start to the day, really. Spock was the best at stuff like this. He never seemed to lose energy, or if he did, he held it all off until they were back in bed. This was their first morning off together in nearly a fortnight, and Jim intended to make the most of it. He’d stayed up late the night before finishing all his urgent paperwork, approving departmental requests and perusing their upcoming mission with Spock. But today, officially off duty until 1600 hours, he wanted to relax.

Spock handed Jim a towel and wrapped one around himself too. “You haven’t eaten in 16.4 hours, Jim. You require nutrition.”

Jim laughed. “Yeah, now that you mention it I’m famished.” He stopped and blinked at the pang of pain the word sent to his chest. Normally that stuff didn’t bother him; didn’t make him bat an eyelid. He wasn’t Spock, he didn’t take things literally. When people said they were starving or famished, he knew they were exaggerating. But hearing himself say it then had made his heart race, and he wasn’t sure why. There was no shortage of food on the Enterprise, and he had no reason to let Tarsus and his past spoil their perfectly lovely morning.

He continued into the main room, towelling his hair off and trying to calm down. Spock was already looking at him suspiciously, the damn bond, but didn’t say anything when Jim sat down and took his plate of pancakes with a forced cheeriness. Instead, he sat with his own breakfast and began eating thoughtfully.

“If you wish to talk, Jim, now would seem an appropriate time.” Spock finally said, slowly, and Jim tried to look surprised when he looked up from his breakfast. Of course Jim knew that Spock knew he’d been doing a lot of thinking about their relationship, but he didn’t want Spock to know that he knew that Spock knew he had been thinking about their relationship. He frowned at the complexity.

“I was just wondering when you think we might formalise the bond?”

“I see.” Spock looked away awkwardly. But Vulcans didn’t feel awkward, so it had to be something else. Guilt? Jim swallowed nervously.

“It’s not that I’m in a rush, or anything, but I feel like it was something you only mentioned once. It sounds so appealing to me, Spock, and whenever I mention it I feel like I’m just bugging you about it. I just… I guess I just want to know it’s still going to happen, at some point.”

A beat passed in silence and became a moment. A long moment. Jim chewed on his lip nervously, but Spock’s expression didn’t change. There was emotion behind those pretty dark eyes, he knew, but he couldn’t place it for certain. Didn’t dare attempt to, either.

“I have reason to believe that a formal bonding would initiate Pon Farr.”

Fear.

“That’s my idea of a good honeymoon.” Jim snorted, not entirely ironically. He fell silent to a sharp look from Spock. “Sorry.”

“I do not wish to cause you harm. Pon Farr _will_ cause you harm. It is my intention to delay the process for as long as possible.”

Jim stared, blood rushing in his head. “What?”

“I estimate a five-year period before the issue becomes inevitable.”

“Five years?!” Jim repeated, wide-eyed. Five years was ridiculous. Preposterous. He didn’t want to be engaged for five years. They might be off the enterprise by then. They might be dead by then. He’d been imagining a few months, maybe a year, but not five. That wasn't the worst part, though. He could understand Spock not wanting to hurt him. But what sucked the most was the fact that Spock had kept his calculations and decisions to himself.

“Affirmative.” Spock finally looked at him, but his wasn't the face of a man who believed he was right. “I know you are scared of it.”

“So what?! I’ve been scared of a lot of things in my life, Spock, but I’ve always faced them.” He pushed his breakfast away, no longer hungry. No longer riding the high of their lazy morning together. “What are we meant to do for five years with an incomplete bond?” He longed to feel Spock always, to share thoughts and feelings in a way only a meld achieved now. It seemed so pitifully cliche; he'd never even intended to settle down with anyone, let alone share his whole being, mind and soul with his First Officer. It was just that he'd lost so much. All he'd ever had was Bones and now Spock, and maybe it was selfish, but he wanted more. More of Spock. More of one of the few good things in his life.

“Our current bond is fulfilling, Jim. There is no immediate cause to-“

Jim gritted his teeth. “You’re scared of hurting me. I’m apprehensive about Pon Farr. Isn’t it logical to bond so that, even if it does trigger your _madness_ , you’ll be more aware of my reactions. You’ll be able to look after me afterwards and, if we know for certain that it’s gonna happen, we’ll be able to prepare. Food, supplies, lube, all that jazz.” Spock looked down, and Jim knew his argument was working. If all Spock's argument was founded on his fear of hurting Jim, then Vulcan's truly could be illogical. “If we know it’s going to happen, it won’t take us by surprise during an important mission, or if we’re separated for the week by work, or if I’m ill or something.”

“You reasoning is sound.” Spock relented quietly.

“I know.” He said, irritably.

“I am sorry.”

“I know.” He repeated, but the apology didn’t make him feel much better. He’d been worried about broaching the subject with Spock- concerned as to why their bonding was never mentioned- but nothing had prepared him for the idea that Spock didn’t _want_ to bond with him. Even if his initial argument was founded in love, it still stung. That Spock even entertained the idea of delaying without talking to Jim about it. He played a part in this too! He’d been the one being fucked over really, literally at that, so he deserved a say.

“I would meditate.”

“Sure.” He didn’t finish his breakfast. They both dressed in silence and as Spock settled on the floor, Jim left in his gym wear. A good run ought to wash away some of the stress that their argument had brought on.

* * *

“You look like hell, Kid.”

Jim glared at Bones, hopping up onto a bed in sickbay. He’d only slipped off the treadmill and bust his lip open - thank god no-one had been around to watch him fall over like an imbecile, not that it'd be the first time - but he found he wanted the company anyway. Bones always gave good relationship advice, even if he'd rather give his operating hand than admit he wanted to help. 

“Had an argument with Spock.” He said bitterly, and it was only Bones’ widening eyes that made him realise what he’d just said. “And _then_ went to the gym to work off some stress and bust my lip open. Jesus Christ, Bones, you think he'd hit me? Or I'd let him?”

“I’m not saying a word about his superior strength, reflexes and track record of violence against you.” God, why did everything make him think about damn Pon Farr? He’d be fine! He knew he would be. He didn’t care what Vulcans said about it. Vulcans weren’t Spock. Spock didn't suppress all his emotions constantly, so surely logic dictated he wouldn't be too caught off guard?

“Piss off.” He lay back on the bed for no reason, crossing his legs and staring at the ceiling. Bones began work on his lip, bustling around him and giving Jim an opportunity to continue his story. “Well I went to speak to him like you told me to. He didn’t want to bond with me for five years and didn’t tell me.”

“Five years?” Bones whistled. “That’s a while and a half.”

“Right?” He didn’t think he could sigh more heavily than he did. “He’s scared of Pon Farr. I convinced him he was being illogical, but he still didn’t seem right.”

“He has every right to be scared, you know. I know you know.” Bones shook his head. “It’s a few days, though, and I’ve done more research than I think my brain, or eyes for that matter, want to deal with. I got your back, Kid.”

“I know that, Bones, and you know how grateful I am.”

“I know. Go back to your quarters, Jim.” Bones said wearily. “You can’t keep running to me every time you need to resolve things with him. You’re going to spend the rest of your lives together.”

“You’re right, of course.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Alright. I’ll go. I’ll see you at the department meeting later.”

“I know, I hadn’t forgotten.”

“This time.”

“I was busy, you know, tending to patients.” Bones shot back at him, grinning nonetheless. “Not all of us can predict when we’re going to be on duty.”

“You’re so snippy tonight dearest.”

“Fuck off, Captain.”

Jim laughed all the way down the corridor, and even into the turbolift. It wasn’t even that funny. He sighed heavily, wiping away a tear, and plucked up the courage to enter Spock’s quarters again. The next time they stopped for a while, they really needed to have a couple’s quarters put in. As fun as it was living out of two rooms, never knowing what possessions he’d left in each, he did want some stability on his ship. For one thing, the crew never knew where to find him if he were needed at night.

The door to Spock’s quarters were locked and didn’t open at his buzz.

“Spock? It’s me.” He said expectantly, and still the door didn’t open.

“Computer, locate Commander Spock.”

“Commander Spock is in his quarters.”

Jim frowned. Even meditating, Spock normally never locked the door or awoke whenever Jim returned. He punched in his lock override tentatively and the doors slid open. As if in slow motions, Jim’s eyes fell on Spock. Spock laying on the floor, looking very thin and frail, and very unconscious.

“Spock!” He was on his knees beside him in an instant and god, oh god, “Spock, wake up. Spock!” His eyes fluttered at the touch to his face, but didn’t really open. Jim was at his com in an instant.

“Kirk to Sickbay!”

“Bones here, Jim. What now?” Bones sounded faintly amused, while Jim struggled to get air into his lungs.

“It’s Spock! He’s passed out, Bones, he won’t wake up! He’s really cold too!”

“On my way! Bones out.”

The com went silent and Jim suddenly felt very alone and scared. This wasn’t a botched away mission; this was the safety of his ship, still not enough. He dragged the blankets from the bed and draped them on Spock’s still form, tucking the edges under him quickly.

“Bones is coming, Spock. Don’t worry about a thing. Bones has our backs.” He murmured, pressing his hand to Spock’s head again. God he was so cold. Vulcans were normally cool on the outside anyway, but this was unnatural. This was a cold sweat. Spock was this cold and not even shivering. He should have been shivering to generate heat; he’d always done so before when this ridiculously cold.

The doors opened and a team of medics joined him, Bones at the head.

“Thermal blankets, now.” Bones barked, fingers pressed against Spock’s wrist as if checking for a pulse. No, Spock was alive. He wasn’t dying, just ill, just-

“Jim, move back!”

He flung himself backwards, staring nervously as Spock was moved onto a stretcher and Bones administered hypo after hypo into his neck. He was so pale- almost grey. But his eyes were still twitching at the hypos.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, yet. I need to get his internal temperature up soon, or-“ Bones fell silent, sticking Spock with another hypo. “Get him to sickbay.”

Jim hurried after the stretcher, his mind spinning. This wasn’t what he’d planned. They’d had enough bad luck for a lifetime now. He’d intended to arrive back, apologise for snapping, for doubting Spock, and then have lunch. They’d probably end up making out and then spend the rest of their afternoon in bed until it was time to go to the bridge. Not this. Whatever this was, he didn’t want it.

“Jim, go wait in my office.” Bones said as they arrived at sickbay. “I’m not kidding. I’ll help Spock, but I need space.”

Jim nodded, feeling vaguely nauseous, and left the Doctor to his work. He bit back the protests that Spock needed him, and maybe somehow their bond would help. He had to trust Bones. He did. Bones had promised him he’d look after them both. He’d been promising him that since he was 13, and he’d not broken that promise yet.

Bones’ office was tidy. Tidy and sad.

“Captain to Uhura.”

“Uhura here, Captain?” She was off duty too. Probably in her quarters being productive, or in the mess with her friends. He was selfish to disturb her.

“Hey. Are you busy?”

“Negative, Captain, just filing my report.”

“Could you come to Bones’ office?”

“Yes Sir. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She wasn’t a minute. She was two, but Jim didn’t hold her to her timing. She wasn’t Spock, after all, and it was his own fault for counting. She entered the office and closed the door behind her, dressed down but clearly concerned that she might be needed for something professional in the office.

“Spock’s ill, and I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Jim said in explanation at her curious gaze, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar. He could feel Spock’s pain in the back of his mind and wondered why he hadn’t been able to before.

Uhura didn’t say anything. Her eyes became round with sadness and she sat beside him, taking his hand in hers.

“He was so cold. Bones said he had to warm up.”

“McCoy will handle it, Jim. Try not to worry. You can feel him, right?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure who’d told Uhura they were bonded. He certainly hadn’t. Maybe Spock had seen her privately at some point. He didn’t see why Bones would.

“So you know he’s hanging in there. Just focus on Spock and your bond, okay, and I’ll be right here beside you.”

“Okay. Thanks Nyota.”

“Any time, Jim.”

They sat in silence then, lunchtime coming and going without either of them mentioning food. If he wasn’t mistaken, and he generally wasn’t about his crew, Uhura had been supervising a night shift with some practicing ensigns. She looked exhausted and sounded it, but she stayed upright for a surprisingly long time. Of course she did. She loved Spock too. Jim liked to think he’d never resented her for being with Spock, but he couldn’t say for sure that he hadn’t been a little closed off to her anyway. Still, he didn’t doubt they cared for each other.

Eventually, Uhura turned towards him and curled up in her chair, resting her head on Bones’ desk. Her eyes drifted closed and Jim wasn’t entirely sure if she was sleeping or not, but he didn’t disturb her. There was nothing to say or do, but wait. Only, god, what was taking so long? He pulled his legs to his chest and focused on his breathing, trying not to imagine the worst. Uhura was right. He could still feel Spock in his head, like a safety rope, and as long as he could feel their bond he had nothing to worry about. Whatever the hell was wrong with Spock, Bones would figure it out.

It was nearly time for his shift when the door finally opened, and Bones entered his office.

“He’s fine. It’s a strain of flu, of all things. Damn Vulcan. Took me a while to diagnose him, his symptoms are screwy, but he’s on treatment now and responding well. He’ll wake up soon I bet.”

“Okay.” He was so tired. “Okay good. I can go sit with him, then?”

“Yeah.” Bones’ eyes flicked to Uhura. “I’ll wake her; you go to Spock.”

Jim nodded his thanks and left, making his way to Spock’s side slowly. He did look better; with more colour in his cheeks and a less dead look about him. Jim climbed onto the bed beside him and took his hand, smiling through unshed tears as he felt Spock’s limp hand tighten around his slightly.

“I’m sorry, Spock. I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed to talk things out.” He took a shaky breath in, but it didn’t help. His chest still felt hollow. “I love you and I know you love me too. So I’ll wait, if I have to. As long as we have each other, right?”

He shuffled back and then lay his head on the mattress at Spock’s side. He had to be on the bridge in a few hours, but until then, he just wanted to lie with Spock and hope to god he woke up to tell him everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Spock didn’t wake before Jim had to leave. Bones offered to have him taken of active duty, but there was really no valid reason. Until their bond was formalised, there was nothing really tying him to Spock in sickness, or in health. In the end, the bridge ended up being exactly what he needed. He liked his Captaincy. He liked being in charge of something, and Chekov and Sulu’s oblivious banter as they worked. It gave him grounding and purpose, and when he did a particular grin the ensigns working around him looked like startled mice, which was always grossly reassuring.

He’d been on shift for a few hours when he heard the gentle noise of the turbolift doors opening, and he turned to see Spock approaching his station.

“Mister Spock, what are you doing here?” He stood instantly, surprise etched onto every previously worried line on his face. Spock didn't look much better from a distance, and as he approached Jim found up close was equally as sickly. Spock belonged in a hospital bed, not on the bridge of his ship.

Spock blinked at him innocently. “I did not wish to miss more of my shift than necessary, Captain.”

“What did Bones say?”

Spock blinked again. “I did not see Doctor McCoy.”

Jim stood, lowering his voice significantly. “You mean you left sickbay without permission from my CMO, to come and work on my bridge?”

“I assure you, Captain, I am functioning perfectly adequately-“

“I don’t care if you’re dancing on rainbows, Commander, you are _not_ above the authority of the CMO and you’re not permitted to work when I found you unresponsive on our bedroom floor six hours ago!” His voice was a hushed outburst of pent up fear and anger, and Spock had the decency to look a little ashamed, even if he didn’t really feel it.

“I have not been removed from active duty on the system. I saw no reason not to engage in my duties.” He blamed that on himself and Uhura distracting Bones from his duties, but that didn't mean Spock should have paid any attention to the official rota, the idiot. Without express permission from Bones, Spock never should have stepped foot out of medbay.

“No reason?!” He took a deep breath and then hit his com. “Doctor McCoy, report to the bridge please.”

“Understood, Captain.” Bones replied, his voice terse through the system. He must have noticed Spock’s absence.

“I fail to see why Doctor McCoy is necessitated at this moment. His companionship is most unwelcome, I assure you.” But Spock never said stuff like that to Jim, even if he thought it. He said it to Bones all the time, sure, but never to Jim.

“Because you’re shaking, Spock, that’s why. And you’ve gone cold, again.” He could tell that from even this distance. He knew what a healthy Spock looked, sounded and acted like. This wasn’t it. Spock didn't act like this- do or say any of these things.

“I see.” He looked down. “Captain, I believe that my heartbeats are irregular. Perhaps you should call for Doctor McCoy.”

“Yeah, Spock, I’ll get right on that.” He took Spock’s arms and helped guide him to the floor. At least he was conscious this time. At least he wasn’t passed out, even if he had paled dramatically again. “Keep talking to me, Spock.” He waved off the crew who came to help him; there really wasn't much they could do.

“You appear worried, Captain. I should report to my station.”

“Don’t worry about that, Spock, your station is covered well. Can you remember what you were doing this morning, Spock, before you passed out?”

“Affirmative.” Spock blinked at him again, but it seemed almost a struggle to open his eyes again, and Jim squeezed his hand in encouragement. “After excessive copulation, we discussed our inevitable bonding. You later apologised for this, but you should not have. You were not in the wrong.”

“Well sometimes you have to make compromises, Spock. It’s logical.”

“In this case I disagree. After your departure I began to meditate and my symptoms began shortly after. I think I am going to pass out, Jim.” Jim. _Jim_. He’d spoken about excessive copulation, and he’d called him _Jim_. On the bridge. In front of crew that they didn’t even consider friends. If that wasn’t a sign something was wrong, Jim didn’t know what was.

Bones arrived moments later, shaking his head and swearing viciously. “Damn sneaky hobgoblin. I’ll have him chained to the goddamn bed this time.” He began to work immediately, with the ease of someone who had worked before at stabilising the temperature and heart rate of a half-Vulcan.

“It’s not the flu.” He said finally, as his team carried Spock away on a stretcher. “I was wrong; I was trying to make his symptoms fit a human pattern. I think it’s some kind of chemically induced anaemia; an ancient illness, with really weird effects on his damn Vulcan biology.”

“Chekov, take a team to Spock’s quarters for his incense.” He directed sharply. “Spock was meditating when his symptoms started.”

“Then that’s a good place to start.” Bones sighed as they followed Spock to sickbay. “I hope I’m wrong about this, Jimmy, because either there’s some unnoticed chemical compound escaping the vents accidentally screwing with your first officer, or someone is trying to kill Spock.”

Jim’s heart hurt.

* * *

“Captain, you were right. It was the incense.”

Jim took the report from the science officer, Masada, with hands that didn’t feel quite real.

“Get me Giotto. I want to know every single person who has motive against Spock and everyone who could do this at any point.”

It didn’t make any sense. They hadn’t been at New Vulcan in months now, and no-one but Jim ever had access to Spock’s quarters. Spock kept his things to himself, anyway. None of it made any sense to him.

He dropped into his seat, rubbing his aching head tiredly. Spock was now being treated for the correct illness, at least, and it couldn’t be more than a week before the chemicals in his system were finally flushed out and Bones let him out of sickbay. Jim wasn’t sure he wanted Spock out of sickbay until they were certain there was no threat anymore, but he had yet to broach that subject with his bond mate.

Spock was conscious again and under the persistent observation of Bones, who was determined not to let him slip out again unnoticed. It was one less worry for Jim, in any case, knowing that Bones had Spock covered. As captain, it was his duty to find and apprehend the threat to his crew and now that they knew there had been tampering with Spock’s incense, he and Giotto could get to work on finding the answer.

* * *

“Med bay to Bridge.”

“Kirk here, Doc.”

“Can you come down here, Captain? Maybe bring Giotto.”

Jim was on his feet in a flash. Scotty was on the bridge for moral support anyway, so took the conn with a serious nod as the lift doors closed on him and Giotto. Bones hadn’t sounded particularly threatened or angry, but Jim felt better to bring his security officer anyway. He’d been a good help during this whole debacle in any case.

It occurred to Jim as they reached Bones office, that he didn’t want to see sickbay again for another month if he could help it, having been there more than enough in the last few days. Bones wouldn’t take it personally. He was probably sick of seeing Jim and Spock, anyway.

“Bones?”

“Hey kid. Spock has an idea he wants to talk to you about. He wouldn’t tell me what it is, that’s why I suggested you bring Giotto.” He shrugged lightly.

“Okay. He’s not drugged up or anything?”

“Nothing to affect his brain, no. He’s as logical as ever.” Bones didn’t sound particularly impressed. “Go and find out whatever’s bugging him, Captain. We’ll wait in here.”

“Okay.” Jim inhaled sharply. “Let’s do this.” He exited the officer and approached Spock’s bed, finding his Vulcan sat up and staring straight ahead. “Hey Spock. How’re you feeling?”

“I am… acceptable. There are many things I wish to discuss with you that must wait until I am recovered and you are ready to listen to me.” God he was so perceptive with that damn bond. Jim wasn’t sure when he’d be ready to listen. He kept changing his mind between sheer terror that he might lose Spock, and anger that they were even in this situation in the first place. He loved Spock so much it hurt, and he didn’t really know how to process those two emotions.

“Sure.” Jim shrugged. Spock was right; now was not the time. “Bones said you’d had an idea?”

“Indeed. I do not believe that anyone on this ship had any cause to wish to harm me, or yourself by extension. I ascertained by meditation materials on our most recent trip to New Vulcan. Prior to that, I had not needed new materials.”

“Yeah?”

“This was my first time requiring such materials since the destruction of my home planet, where I was unable to prevent the death of approximately-“

“Yes, Spock, I know how many people we let die.” He interrupted swiftly. “That wasn’t your fault.” He said, but Spock didn’t look convinced.

“In general, Vulcans do not seek revenge. However, I believe I have caused personal offence in one particular case.”

“Expand, please, Spock.”

Spock wouldn’t look at him. “Vulcans can be betrothed, for want of a better word, as children. A preliminary bond is formed which can either be matured or removed upon coming of age. The betrothal is often to strengthen alliances, but can prove complicated.”

Jim wasn’t stupid. He knew what Spock was getting at, but the idea crushed him anyway. He hoped desperately, in this case, that he was wrong. “You had a bonded, on Vulcan?”

“Yes.” He’d never seen Spock looking more uncomfortable. Or ashamed? He met Jim’s eyes, but it was like a part of him wasn’t quite there. “It was a technicality. T’Pring and I were fundamentally incompatible. Our bond would likely have been dissolved by a healer anyway, had she not perished with my planet.”

“What are you saying, Spock?”

“That her intended betrothed is likely the culprit, with approximately 85.75 percent certainty. He survived and she did not. I believe, if a bond formed between them, he would have been severely emotionally compromised upon her death.”

“You’re telling me Vulcans seek revenge?” He stared in abstract horror and imagined Spock going crazy angry after he’d been kidnapped; breaking his own goddamn hand. Yeah, he figured, Vulcans probably did seek revenge. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Spock.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “What are we meant to do about this? What am I meant to tell command? It’s been months since we were even on Vulcan.”

“I am aware. My father informed me recently that he has since gone on to seek Kolinahr. I do not believe there will be future attempts to concern ourselves with.”

“Oh, you think?” Jim snapped, standing up. That didn’t change the fact that this had happened. That Spock had been so desperately ill and there’d been nothing he could do about it. “Well I can’t wait for the next time we go to Vulcan, Spock, that’s going to be a real walk in the park.” Their bonding, for one thing. He only hoped that whoever the bastard was who had oh so logically tried to kill Spock was well and truly emotionless and far away when they were next on New Vulcan.

“I am sorry, Jim. I am aware that I am not fulfilling your emotional requirements at this time. In all my attempts to not hurt you, I believe I have failed drastically.”

“Yeah, well, practice makes perfect I guess.” Jim muttered. “We’ll talk later, Spock. I have to go be Captain.” After some deliberation, he kissed Spock’s hairline. “Stay put, this time.”

“Yes, Jim.”

* * *

“Well?” Bones asked when he re-entered the office.

“Spock has reason to believe that the interference was done on New Vulcan, and not on the ship. I think we can put this down to an unhappy accident and stand down, Giotto. Are we in agreement?”

“Yes, Sir.” He liked Giotto. No nonsense and hardworking. Bones, on the other hand, looked deeply irritated and concerned. He wasn’t going to let this drop, Jim knew.

“Are you sure, Jim? Admiralty will-“

“I’ll handle the Admiralty.” He didn’t like interrupting Bones. It felt like pulling rank, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do to his oldest friend, but this was a whole other realm of attitude. He was tired and very angry. “I just want this to be over already. Just… everything back to normal now please, gentlemen.”

“Understood, Sir.”

Bones nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This plot line seemed a lot better when I wrote it. 
> 
> Going to post everything today and hopefully wrap this up for the time being.
> 
> Thanks.


	12. Chapter 12

Spock came home when Bones was certain that he was 100 percent healthy, and not a moment sooner. He’d even finished treatment the day before and had been kept under observation for the remainder of his time there. Jim wasn’t entirely sure how to act. It felt like a rift had formed between them in the week or so since their morning off together. Since five years became a time frame that he couldn’t seem to escape. That being said, he meant what he’s said to Spock in the hospital. He _would_ wait. He'd wait the whole five years if Spock wanted to. Of course he would. The process wasn't going to be a bundle of fun for Spock, and he had ever right to delay it if he could. As long as Jim had his ship and Spock, then he couldn’t complain. It was still more than he deserved, and more than he ever imagined having. He was lucky, and damn selfish to even entertain the idea that he was entitled to more.

“I indicated that I would like to talk to you, Jim.” Spock said quietly, locking the doors to his quarters for the sake of privacy.

“Yeah, you did.” Jim said. “But does it have to be right now?”

Spock frowned. “I was not aware there was anything else on your schedule, Jim.”

“There’s not.” Jim chewed on his lower lip. He didn’t want to talk to Spock, but he certainly didn’t want to leave him either. “I just…” He sighed and then stepped forwards, wrapping his hands around Spock’s neck and dragging his face down into a kiss. It said more than he could anyway, about how he was feeling, and it certainly revealed a lot to him. It was messy and passionate, and Spock stumbled until his back hit the wall.

“You are emotional-“

“If you add ‘ly compromised’ to the end of that I swear to god you’ll end up back in sickbay.” Jim hissed before silencing Spock again. The half-Vulcan was still for a beat, hands pressed against Jim’s chest awkwardly, and then his restraint broke and he was tugging at Jim’s yellow shirt and undershirt in one, pulling them off swiftly before tending to his own.

God it was good to feel Spock’s skin, cool and silky. As happy as he was to see him healthy, it didn’t stop Jim from sucking and biting to his heart’s content. Maybe it was the anger or the staggering need to remind himself Spock was his. He didn’t care. His hands moved to Spock’s waistband and he shoved at the offending garments, freeing Spock from his restraints entirely. Fuck, fuck! He wanted to feel Spock inside him, but he settled for taunting his mate with a punishingly rough hand job.

“If you wish – the bed.” Spock got out between breaths, lifting his head from Jim’s neck. An incomplete utterance. It was almost better than a shout, Jim thought.

“Later.”

“Jim!” Spock’s hand gripping at his neck, sure to bruise, but impossibly fucking arousing. He came thickly, and Jim thought it looked exhausting and beautiful. He saw the glazed over look in Spock’s eyes. The way his breath stilted and his hands tensed further, before the heavy bliss and little twinges of sensitivity descended upon him.

“Jim…”

“I should hope so.” He muttered. Spock seemed to remember where he was and moved his hands instantly to Jim’s trousers, turning them swiftly until Jim was the one pressed against the wall.

“I have missed you.”

“You’ve seen me every day.”

Spock’s eyes met him, unapologetic. “I have missed you.” He repeated, and then he moved onto his knees and tugged at Jim’s pants and in spite of himself and the warring emotions in his mind, he grinned. He could deal with the emotions later. Right now he just wanted to feel good.

* * *

Jim had lost all concept of time. He had no idea how long it had been since Spock locked their doors, but had no desire to find out either. He lay in bed beside Spock, only touching where their shoulders met, and an uncomfortable silence hung over them where otherwise should have been blissful sleep.

“You feel regret.” Spock said quietly, to the dark room.

“Yes.” There was no point in lying. Spock was literally in his head. “You deserve better than that, Spock. We should have talked properly first.”

He felt Spock turn onto his side. “We have been less than proficient at conversing recently. I do not meet your needs, and I fail you as a bond mate because of that.”

“No, Spock, no of course you don’t.” He turned too, shuffling closer. If anything, he was the emotionally deficient one. His natural response to anything on earth was 'talk to Bones', which wasn't good enough really. Not for him and not for Spock. “I love you. So much. More than I ever thought possible. When I found you on the floor I thought… and the idea of losing you without having bonded to you. I don’t want to die without having been yours entirely, and for as long as possible. But I know that there’s more to it than that. I know you wouldn’t act unless it was really for the best.”

“You have more faith in me than I do.” Spock admitted quietly. “I feared my own guilt for causing you pain, and my fear caused you more pain itself. I would bond to you this night if I could, and I would feel only wonder that you would take me.”

“Ha. You romantic.” Jim teased dryly, but the moment faded and tension returned swiftly. “You didn’t tell anyone about your… betrothed.”

“No.” He could hear Spock’s discomfort. “At the time it seemed a necessary if bothersome aspect of Vulcan society. It did not need mentioning. I see now I was mistaken.”

“In fairness, we all know Vulcans can get bonded as kids. Just no-one put two and two together to realise you were a Vulcan kid once.”

“Still, I do not think that negates the blame."

Jim smiled, tucking his head against Spock’s shoulder. “I love you, Spock.”

“And I you, ashayam.”

* * *

Jim held his hand up when he heard Spock stepping forward to see if he was alright. Spock had sensed his hurt and irritation at the message he’d just received from his brother, he guessed, and it must have been strong enough to warrant a check-up. His first reaction had been to ask to speak to Spock alone. He’d quickly rejected that idea in favour of going straight to Bones to rant and rage. He finally settled on staying on the bridge, where he damn well belonged, and talking to his bond mate after their shift had ended.

Still, he turned and forced a smile. “Later.” He vowed softly. Spock looked concerned still, but nodded with lips pressed tightly together and returned to his station.

Jim swivelled back around. He took a deep steadying breath. He remembered once, after Tarsus, he’d woken from a nightmare- a memory- of being smothered in the night. He’d been completely unable to breath, and Bones had rubbed his back and forced him to anyway. Afterwards, angry and scared, Jim had told Bones that breathing was overrated anyway. He’d learned otherwise, since.

“Okay everyone, we have some trade deals to secure.” He announced to the bridge. “Let’s do this.”

* * *

The transporter room felt like home for a brief moment, when Jim transported back onto the ship with Spock, Uhura, Chekov and two security officers. They’d been away negotiating for almost four days, and he had never been so tired in his life. The work itself had been engaging, and their hosts more than amiable, but there was nothing quite like home- with Scotty beaming at them from his computer terminal and Sulu, stood by the door with his eyes trained on Chekov.

“Great work everyone. Go get some well-earned rest.” Jim instructed in a very Captainly manner and watched as they filed out of the transport room- Chekov tucked at Sulu’s side neatly, looking small and comfortable, and perfectly happy there. At last.

That was how Jim wanted to feel. He took Spock’s hand tiredly and thanked Scotty again for taking care of the ship while they’d been away, before slowly making their way to Spock’s quarters.

“You require additional rest.”

“You can say that again. Who sleeps in two hour bursts? It takes me that long to fall asleep some nights.” Jim moaned, allowing himself to lean on Spock a little more heavily. They were off duty now, technically, and there was no need to be completely professional.

“I am aware of this.” Spock replied quietly. “Had you informed our hosts that we were bonded, I might have eased your discomfort.”

“I know Spock, but they seemed very judgy. I didn’t want their prejudices to interfere with the negotiation.”

“You put Starfleet above your own health-“

“Yes, that’s sort of our job.” Jim replied quietly. “Can we not do this now?”

“Indeed.” Spock punched in the code for his room and they entered. No, Jim realised, this was home. Not the transporter room. Spock’s quarters. Neat and distinctly too warm, with that distant smell of spice and sweetness lingering everywhere.

He stripped from his uniform instantly, even taking the time to fold his clothes and place them in a pile. After all, he was already so tired, what was an extra minute to him now?

“Will you join me?”

Spock looked very much like he was itching to sit at his desk and start his report. But he nodded anyway and joined Jim in changing. God, when he woke up Jim had such plans for that lean body. He’d been sat next to Spock every day of that mission, legs and feet touching at odd intervals, but never remaining so. It had been torture.

They climbed into bed and, as happened only once in a blue moon, Spock wrapped himself around Jim; let him press himself up against his taller figure and feel small and loved.

“I got a message from my brother the other day.” He said, when they had settled, and the darkness of the room had swathed them like a blanket. “He wasn’t happy that I didn’t go home for mom’s funeral. Called me a coward, hiding in space.” He sniffed and hated himself for it. He shouldn’t have let it get to him that much. “The second he was old enough, he left me. Ran away from home and left me to fend for myself. Why he feels any sort of obligation to his family now is completely beyond me.” But he suspected it had a great deal to do with his sister-in-law and nephew or niece. He wasn’t sure which one it was, and that probably made him the world’s worst Uncle.

“I am of the opinion that you are the bravest man I have ever known. It took a great deal of conviction for you to stand up to your past and not return for the burial of your mother. I am very proud of you and- and I know that Doctor McCoy is, also.”

It was only because he was so deeply tired, to the very bones of him, that he started to cry. And because his bond mate was so insanely sweet when his only surviving family was not. Spock held him tighter, and the pretence dropped. He cried for Tarsus and his childhood and how much he once idolised Sam, and still did. He cried for how scared he’d been when Spock had been ill and how he missed his mother, even though he hated her and could never forgive her.

Eventually he stopped crying. Eventually he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, waking repeatedly despite the tug of exhaustion within him. Each time his eyes flickered open, Spock was there beside him. Sometimes he was awake and watching Jim through dark, deep eyes. A few times he was sleeping himself, and his steady breathing helped lull Jim back to sleep. Either that or the bond, pulling him along.

Spock’s alarm woke them properly, finally, two hours before their shift started. Jim felt like he hadn’t slept at all, but calm in a way he hadn’t been in a while. His hands found Spock’s and he engaged him in a Vulcan kiss, hoping to spare Spock from his morning breath. The touching of their fingers sent currents running down his veins and he smiled sleepily.

“Good morning, T’hy’la.”

“Good morning.” Spock replied softly. “You are beautiful.”

Jim was probably sure he looked like shit. His eyes were probably puffy still, and tired. The statement made him smile in pleasant surprise anyway, because he doubted Spock would lie about his own perceptions.

“Yeah? You’re not too bad yourself.”

Spock’s lips quivered in what to anyone else would be a smile, and Jim grinned back with ease.


	13. Chapter 13

Two days later, Jim got off the bridge to find his Vulcan was missing. Not in the lab, or his quarters, in the mess or even engineering. He gave up after being delayed half an hour by Scotty, eager to talk about improvements to the ship, and resorted to his com.

“Captain Kirk to Commander Spock?”

“Spock here, Captain.”

“Hey, where are you?”

“I am on the observation deck, should you care to join me captain?”

“Understood and on my way. Kirk out.”

Jim shrugged as he made his way towards the observation deck. Normally it was him moping out there, and Spock coming to find him. Not that he thought Spock would be moping, that would be ridiculous. He was probably with Uhura or reading or something intellectually stimulating that Jim didn’t have the energy for right now. As much as he loved reading, any free time he had now was allocated as either Spock time or Bones time. He could read when he was old and retired.

“Spock?” He entered the observation deck and found it dark as it could be, but the starlight illuminated Spock’s pale face and he looked so beautiful it took Jim’s breath away.

“I had anticipated your com significantly earlier.”

“Yeah, I looked for you myself and then Scotty managed to pin me down for a while. I think the next time we make a pit stop I’ll work with him for a few days. It feels ages since I had my hands on an engine.” He stood beside Spock, staring out into the vast space they travelled through. “What are you doing here?”

“You seem to find comfort in the views in here. I appreciate the aesthetic, but I struggle to understand the peace it brings you.”

Jim grinned and waved him off. “You have meditation, I had the knowledge of knowing I’m nothing more than a glorified jumble of atoms in the grander scheme of things.” A thought struck him and he blanched. “Why do I need comfort?” He hoped he was portraying a look of ‘oh fuck, what’s happened now?’ but it was possible it came across more as a pleading fear, and his building anxiety already had his hands wringing together.

“You do not. Uhura told me that conversations as this one are often undertaken in a place of significance. I believed this would suffice.” Spock tensed slightly. “If I am mistaken, we can move to your own choice of-“

“Baby, this is fine, just tell me what the hell kind of conversation we’re having?”

Spock blinked at him adorably and his jaw tensed again. He didn’t speak, but kneeled down slowly, on one knee. For a moment, Jim was just deeply confused as to why his Vulcan was on the floor, but then Spock procured a small box from under the chair beside them and held it up to Jim, and god oh god. Spock looked actually nervous, and Jim couldn’t get his heart to settle down.

“You are my T’hy’la, James Tiberius Kirk, and you have been unfathomably patient with me. If you would have me, still, then I would bond with you.” He opened the box to reveal a pretty gold ring. A plain wedding band, subtle and undemanding. It was a human tradition and nothing, in any way, to do with Vulcan bonding. But the significance. To bond properly, to wear that ring and declare he was _taken_. This was Spock saying, finally, that he would mature the bond with Jim.

Jim sunk to his knees, grinning so hard he thought he might need a shot to relax his facial muscles. When he kissed Spock, it was with the ferocity of his emotions. It took a moment to reciprocate, but Spock got over his initial surprise and kissed him back, hard. It was the most breathtakingly, literally, thorough kiss he’d ever had.

“That was a yes, by the way, Spock.” He whispered, eventually. “When?”

“New Vulcan is scheduled a visit in one month to help with the building of an archive collection. Commander Pike has approved two weeks leave. He offered his congratulations,” Spock blinked. “I wasn’t sure whether that was appropriate, given that I had not asked you, nor received a response.”

“What else would I say but yes, Spock?” Jim couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Daft genius. A month.” He grinned, taking the ring from the box- still in Spock’s hand. “But I can wear this now, right?”

“It is yours, you may wear it as you see fit. I cannot take full credit; Nyota suggested you would appreciate the symbol-“

“She was right. Thank you, Spock. I love it.” It fit perfectly on his ring finger, which was no surprise. He doubted Spock would have attempted unless he knew everything was perfect. Perfect. It was. God his cheeks hurt from grinning, but he kissed Spock again anyway and contemplated the time it would take to get back to their quarters, or the different places along the way that might prove more interesting.

“You are insatiable.” Spock murmured against his ear. “And it was my understanding that after these things are agreed upon, humans generally take to telling their family.”

He thought of Bones moaning about the hobgoblin but then ruffling Jim’s hair anyway, in congratulations. Of Uhura and Chekov hugging him and squealing, and maybe Sulu and Scotty would get truly shit-faced for him if they weren’t on duty tomorrow.

“They are not.” Spock answered him, a mischievous glint in his eye. He stood and tugged Jim up along with him, taking his hand where his new ring sat and striding from the observation deck quickly.

“Wait- wait, just a sec.” He turned by the door and looked into the room, through the expanse of glass and the hundreds of stars beyond. “I’d remember every goddamn star if I could, you know. Everything about this day.”

“That would be an illogical use of memory space.” Spock replied, amusedly. “My emotional human.”

“Yours.” Jim grinned, finally turning away from the room and gesturing for Jim to continue. “I like that, Mister Spock. You’re really pulling out all the stops today.” He pressed his face against Spock’s arm as they walked, holding him tightly. He had no desire to be anywhere else right now.

“It was long overdue. For that I can only apologise. It is a daunting thing to spend significant time meditating, and then to have one’s Captain ascertain one’s emotions effortlessly.”

“What can I say, Spock. I just know you.” He smiled softly.

“I told you that my mother had ensured I learned human principles and I had never understood why, until recently.”

“Yes?”

“You are why. Had I never joined Starfleet, never sought independence more than the knowledge that Vulcan offered me, I would never have met you, T’hy’la.”

“I swear to god, if you make me cry in front of the others, I’ll end you.” He said quickly, but his eyes were only sparkling a little, and that was quickly resolved with a kiss.

They entered the mess promptly, and Jim found everyone he loved in the world congregated and looking at them with knowing smiles on their faces and god, did Spock tell everyone what he was planning or had Uhura arranged all of this? Bones stood at the front of the small crowd, back straight and eyes trained on Jim. He had the same look on his face he had when Jim got his first year grades back. It was the same look as when he’d been made Captain, officially, and when he and Spock had first kissed. The sort of fatherly pride that made his eyes light up, despite his perfectly trained, nonchalant face.

He didn’t speak. With a big, dopey grin on his face he lifted his and Spock’s intertwined hands and revealed his ring. The cheers and applause was deafening, and though it was clear they had expected nothing less, they were still ridiculously enthusiastic. His family. Chekov barrelled at his side and hugged him tightly, reeking of vodka and eyes shining youthfully. He got separated from Spock at some point; his fiancé… bond mate, everything, was talking quietly to Nyota away from the crowd. Considering she had her hands clasped together in excitement, Jim imagined he was relaying the proposal to her. She had already hugged the life out of him, anyway.

He was three whiskeys down when Bones got him alone, sat in a corner and idly watching the science officers, Sulu and Chekov doing shots out of test tubes while Spock looked on disapprovingly.

“Congratulations Kid.”

“Thanks Bones.” He grinned, more out of habit than anything. He was tired now, but this was a cause to celebrate. “A month. Can you believe it? A month and this stud-muffin will be officially off the market.”

“You’ve been off the market since the second you laid eyes on that hobgoblin.” Bones snorted. “And I’m glad, Jimmy. I’m real happy for you.”

Jim nursed his fourth drink, pensively. He’d thought Bones was the only person in the world he’d ever had who wouldn’t let him down. Pike would try, maybe. But Bones was his friend before anything else. Now he had Spock too, and everyone else, and the idea that he didn’t deserve it reared its ugly head again.

“Yeah? You think this is gonna end well, Bones? You think I can do it?”

“Oh kid, I think you can do anything you put your mind to.” Bones took the drink away from him and, over his shoulder, gestured to someone. Spock arrived beside the table promptly, and Jim should have known.

“Our boy’s one drink away from overthinking himself into a depression. You might wanna take him home.”

Spock observed Jim through a tilted head, looking oddly amused, and then he nodded. “I agree with your statement, Doctor. Are you ready to depart, Jim?”

Jim giggled. “I’d say so, baby.” He swung himself off his stool and paused, throwing his arms around Bones. “You’re my best man, right? I know we’re bonding and not marrying, but in principal, right? You’re my best friend, Bones.”

“Yeah, son, I’m your best man. Now go to bed, you lightweight.”

He let Bones go, laughing, and let Spock help him through the door of the mess and back out to the quiet corridor. He wanted to suck Spock off right there. Damn Spock’s no drinking rule. He chewed the inside of his cheeks and contended himself with stroking his bond mate hand. If he wasn’t going to be satisfied tonight, the least he could do was tease Spock too.

“I’m not touching a drop of alcohol on our bonding day.” He swore, admiring his ring. “In fact, you have to remind me to go sober from now on. Unless we’re at a diplomacy function.”

“I believe I would have said particularly when you are attending diplomacy functions.” Spock countered, keying in the code to his quarter.

“That’s because diplomacy functions are boring,” Jim continued as if Spock hadn’t spoken, “And alcohol is fun. Even if it means that I cannot suck you off.” He giggled at the blush on his bond mate; they were on the corridor still, and how unprofessional was talking about blow jobs where any young ensign might be eavesdropping on them. Spock guided him into the room, clearly trying to not act flustered.

“You are highly likely to find yourself in considerable trouble should you drink at a diplomacy function, after all.”

“But not getting to suck you off is a sacrifice I’ll have to make if I want to survive another meal of talking politics and pretending I care about the indigenous furry creatures.” Jim nodded wisely. Silence fell for a moment as he was steered to the bed and Spock kneeled before him to take off his boots.

“Ah, am I getting the blow job?” He teased, grinning.

“You are always so fixated on oral stimulation after imbibing alcohol.” Spock commented neutrally. “And had you not partaken, you _would_ be benefiting from the process, Captain.”

“You’re cruel, Mr Spock.” His second boot slipped off finally and he reached forward to kiss Spock, messily. The way Spock only ever cared for in the throes of passion, or when he was feeling particularly possessive. Now must have been one of those times, because Spock climbed up onto the bed and over Jim, who shuffled back eagerly.

“I will not take this beyond kissing, Jim.” He said, once he’d pulled Jim’s shirt off and could press his lips against Jim’s collarbone. “But in the morning, when you are sober...” His tone was a promise that made Jim want to squirm. He did so, against Spock, and was placated with another kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

There were three weeks until Jim bonded to Spock, and he couldn’t breathe. Or he could, just barely, but his throat was closing up rapidly and not making the noises he’d wanted it to make. He’d been feeling breathless for a while, but put it down to tiredness as they exited the restaurant and began the walk down the promenade. The amount this happened to him, you’d think he’d have learned not to panic by now, but he still waved his hands around relentlessly until he got Spock’s attention.

“Jim?” Spock paled. “Doctor- You are required.”

Bones appeared in front of him, hands on his face examining roughly. “For fucks sake, what did you eat?” He asked hurriedly, pulling his hypospray out and preparing it distractedly. “Spock, what did he eat?!”

“Fruit salad, I believe. I will ascertain the specific ingredients.” Spock squeezed his hand and left, Jim wheezing in response.

“Fruit salad?” The hypo hit his neck with unnecessary force. “One food at a time, Jim, you massive idiot.” The antihistamine worked quickly in opening his airways, but he still felt light headed and panicked. God was that day hypo still in his neck? He could feel it lingering.

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” In his defence, it had been months since his last freak allergic reaction. He’d gotten cocky about the whole thing, he guessed. But they were on a day’s shore leave while the replicators were fixed, and he’d just wanted to eat real food for once. “Bones?”

“What?” The Doctor was rummaging around in his bag for more terrifying hyposprays.

“I’m going to be sick.”

Bones turned him around and directed him over the wall, just in time for him to lose what had to be most of the contents of his stomach into the sea. God he hoped he hadn’t just broken some colony rules or something. It was a blessing to find a planet with any great body of water. He breathed deeply through his raw throat, Bones rubbing his back in circles, until he was certain the feeling had passed.

He turned and found Spock had joined them again, watching him with such concern that it made Jim feel guilty.

“Shit- I’m sorry, I didn’t…” He looked helplessly at Bones. “It’s been so long.”

“I know kid.” Bones clasped his arm tightly. “Don’t worry about it. We should get you back to the ship.” He turned to Spock. “You find out our star ingredient?”

“Kiwi. The only other fruit in the pot was certified and approved to me by yourself, Doctor.”

“Kiwi it is.”

* * *

Four hours later, Jim was allowed back off ship. He and Spock went for a harmless walk. Really, just harmless. The only thing Jim had to fear was his own partner’s questions. But he couldn’t exactly deflect or run away. Even if he truly wanted to, he got the sense that Spock and Bones were getting a bit buddy-buddy behind his back. He didn’t like the idea they were discussing him like some science experiment.

“I told you I got discharged from hospital after 2 months, after Tarsus. It was time, and I was physically fit enough. But I didn’t want to go. They dragged me kicking and screaming back to Iowa, to Frank and my mom. When I got there, I didn’t trust anyone, especially not doctors. It was fucking traumatic every time I got bust up or had an allergic reaction.”

Spock looked at him curiously but didn’t speak. Jim felt him, though, the concern in the bond. The way he sat fractionally closer to Jim and kept their fingers locked.

“I used to be terrified of hypos. That’s why Bones fucking springs them on me all the time. I know it’s illogical and they don’t even hurt that bad. But when I was like 15 to 19, maybe, they sent me crazy. I’d throw up and fight stuff and I couldn’t stop it.”

“Today, you felt the need for the same reaction?” Spock asked uncertainly. Really, it was adorable. He was trying so hard to understand and to not offend or provoke Jim. He was the single greatest fiance slash bondmate that Jim could ever possible imagine.

“Yeah. Sort of. Not as strong. I felt the hypo and Bones was grumbling at me, and I could just feel it all still. I couldn’t help throwing up, it was a weird reflex.” Relapse. It was not weird, really. It had happened only two years ago if he thought about it, after an ordinary preventative before a trip off planet. It was annoying, however. Really fucking frustrating that he was no better than the things that had troubled him when he was a kid. It had been fucking lucky that Spock and Bones had been there with him. He didn’t want to think about what he’d do if ever alone in a situation like that.

“Why would we ever be anywhere else, Jim?” Spock asked simply, arching an eyebrow in a challenging sort of way, as if daring Jim to contradict him.

Jim rolled his eyes. “Not by choice, I know. Bones practically hasn’t been out of com distance of me since I joined the academy.” He laughed tiredly and pressed his face against Spock’s sleeve. “When we bond, you won’t get bogged down with all my emotional baggage will you?”

“No, Jim. I do not believe I will. If anything I hope the bond will provide you with a greater sense of peace.”

“Hm. This bond sounds better and better.” He grinned into the cloth of Spock’s sleeve. “Three weeks to go, baby.”

“I am more than aware.” Spock sounded fond. “You need not continue to make the ship wide announcements either, as the ship is also more than aware.”

“If I stopped, they might think something was wrong!” Jim gasped in mock-horror. “I’m happy, and they need to know that. 21 days and you won’t be able to escape me.”

“Nor you escape me.” Spock mused quietly, and Jim tried not to hear the darker, fragile tone to his speech. Pon Farr. He knew Spock was still scared. Or concerned, rather, about the whole process. But he hadn’t actually brought it up since their argument before the proposal. And considering Spock had actually proposed, he must have weighed up the benefits in favour of the negatives. If there was anything reliable in life, it was Spock’s calculations. Most of the time. Anyway, Bones was already preparing and ranting to him about nutrition and limits of the human body any chance he got. He didn’t doubt they’d muddle through, somehow.

“There isn’t a place I’d rather be in this whole universe than at your side, Spock.” He sniffed. “Even if you don’t want a dog.”

“The chances of us ever being in a long term residence, with the lifestyles required for the proper care and attendance a canine requires, are minute.” Spock reasoned, but that fond sound had returned and it sounded more like he was teasing Jim again. Thank god. As tense as the subject of Pon Farr was, it wasn’t one he wanted to think about more necessary, and it definitely didn’t need resolving this evening.

“You can’t predict the future, Spock. I bet, one day, we’ll get one. And you’ll love it.”

Spock pressed a kiss against his temple. “It is getting late, Ashayam. We should return to the ship.”

Jim, now tired from his somewhat draining day off ship, agreed and tried to project contentment. It had been a nice end to a rather mixed day, in any case. He hit his com badge.

“Kirk to Enterprise.”

“Scotty here, Cap’n.”

“Two to beam up, please.”


	15. Chapter 15

There were two weeks till Jim bonded to Spock, and his fiancé had been suspiciously quiet all day. He’d requested they eat breakfast in their quarters, and Jim had agreed readily, and then said very little. As soon as he’d finished his food, he’d excused himself to go check on some experiments and left Jim sat at their table.

It was unusual for the new norm they’d found, but Jim didn’t want to be too hasty in his suspicions. Spock was still Vulcan, after all, and couldn’t be expected to adhere to human lifestyle all the time. In the same way that Jim wouldn’t be able to meditate for three hours straight instead of just sleeping, he guessed. Still, Spock had reported for bridge duty like normal and lasted for two hours before requesting permission to return to his lab. Jim had agreed uncertainly, but Spock hadn’t been needed on the bridge and they all knew it. To have kept him there against his direct wishes to be elsewhere would have been suspicious.

Not even when he’d made his daily announcement that there were, now, ‘Thirteen Terran days to go before I bag the First Officer, Ladies and Gentlemen, so you may direct your compliments and congratulations to me as and when you see me,’ had he felt the pleasant thrum of contentment in the back of his mind from his bond mate.

The moment bridge ended, he waved down Sulu’s invites for a drink in the mess with Chekov and Scotty, and went in search of Spock. He found him in his lab, staring at a screen without really seeing. He hadn’t even noticed Jim’s entry, which was most disturbing. The science officers working around him were looking at their Captain uncertainly and in his quizzical glance to Spock, they all shrugged and shook their heads. So they didn’t understand either, then. He gestured for them to vacate the vicinity, and they did so in a quick march that would make the academy proud.

“Spock?”

Spock blinked and turned to him. “Captain, my apologies. I should not have been distracted at my post.”

“Your shift ended ten minutes ago, Spock. You don’t get distracted. Why were you distracted?”

He finished the programs he was running with a few clicks, turning back to Jim. “Distracted is not the right word. I had slipped into a semi-meditative state. Not through choice, but nonetheless. There seemed very few other options available.”

“Spock, what’s wrong?” He didn’t need to know the details. God only knew how many different types of meditation there were in Vulcan, and he had the rest of his life to learn. His main concern was why Spock had been so closed off all day- god he hoped it wasn’t another Pon Farr freak out.

“This date was my mother’s birthday.”

“Oh.” His chest ached, sharp and sudden. “Oh God, Spock, I’m so sorry.”

“I am not in severe distress, Jim. I was merely thinking over the past. It is an indulgence I rarely partake in, but I could not avoid it today.”

“I know.” Jim stroked Spock’s hair lovingly. “Do you wanna go back to our quarters? Let me look after you, for once.”

“As I am not ill, Jim, I fail to see the necessity for such actions.”

“Humour me, would you?” He offered Spock a teasing smile, but Spock only looked tired. He very rarely looked tired, and it never ceased to freak Jim out. He normally only ever saw it after an exceptionally difficult mission, or once, when Spock hadn’t meditated in a while and Jim had kept him up with nightmares. Spock had insisted his only concern was for Jim, but Jim knew when Spock was getting agitated and needed to withdraw.

Spock’s head tilted in confusion, but he nodded anyway. “Very well.” He acquiesced, standing. Even then, he looked taller and frailer somehow.

They left the lab promptly, and Jim thanked the science officers still hanging around on the corridor waiting to go back inside. Spock looked through them. Or he might as well have done for all he paid attention to them. Jim placed his hand in the crook of Spock’s arm. Not to guide him, exactly, but certainly to remind him he was there. He hoped his touch was something of a comfort, even if he didn’t dare believe it was.

They made it back to Spock’s quarters in one piece and Jim stripped down immediately, the heat stronger than he remembered it from that morning. Spock must have been back during the day at some point. God, Jim didn’t know how to deal with a homesick, mourning Vulcan. He’d give it his best shot, though.

“Do you want tea?” He asked, moving to the replicator already. “I think tea is a good idea. And get into bed.”

“It is hardly time for sleep, Jim.”

“No-one said anything about sleeping, Spock.” Jim rolled his eyes at the eyebrow quirk he received in response. “No-one said anything about sex either.”

Spock complied, sitting atop the covers and muttering, “There is no other purpose for getting into bed.” Jim swore on his life he was being petulant. If he’d known all those months ago, pining after his bond-mate, that Spock could be so human… to whine about not having sex…. Jim probably would have burst blood vessels in his arousal. No. He had to focus. Sex was not the answer to this. Spock was just putting ideas in his head because he didn’t want to talk about his feelings.

Jim handed Spock his tea and climbed into the bed beside him, resuming stroking his hair. “You said your mother would have liked me, once. Do you really think that?”

“There is not a doubt in my mind that she would have.” Spock even sounded tired and Jim felt terrible. He should have asked what was wrong the moment he suspected anything was amiss. He could have sent Spock off duty-hours ago, to meditate or sleep or, god, even to Bones for something calming. “She was exceptionally fond of human traits. Your charm, kindness and bravery would have appeased her good nature immensely.”

“I’m glad. I wish I could have met her. I bet I could have convinced her to show me your baby photos.”

“I agree.” Spock said dryly. “I may regret telling you this, but my father will prove equally as easy to manage. He will tell me it is illogical to feel embarrassment over a state of my development. He will also believe your desire to see me as I once was, is illogical. Because of this, I cannot predict the outcome of your desire with any certainty.”

“Well I’ve seen what you’re eventually going to become. You can’t blame me for wanting to see you as an itty bitty baby.” He snorted. “We’ll just have to wait and see, right?” Jim pressed a kiss to his hair. “Did you ever go to earth before Starfleet? With your mom, I mean?”

“Indeed. Twice. My father discouraged the practice during my development for concern it would counteract my mental practices. My mother insisted upon the death of her parents, and a second time for a cousins wedding.” He must have felt Jim’s curiosity about his earth family, because he continued quietly. “They are all deceased now.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It is not your fault. Just as it is not your responsibility to enquire after my mother.” He said, awkwardly. “Though I do appreciate your efforts.”

Jim deflated a little. “So you don’t want to talk about her at all? I’m not kidding, I would like to hear, Spock. I’ve never known what a good mom is supposed to be like.”

“Perhaps just not tonight, Ashayam.” Spock twisted and pressed his lips against Jim’s bare collarbone. “I am tired.”

“Then sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”


	16. Chapter 16

There was one week to go until Jim was to be bonded to Spock, and he thought he might never survive long enough to see the week out. His hand cramped and ached like never before. He had more paperwork and fewer rest hours than he could have anticipated prior to his leave, and Spock was no better off. He felt like it had been days since he’d really seen his bond-mate. Even at night, their schedules weren’t meeting up very well. Spock was squeezing in meditation here and there, and Jim stayed up late where Spock went to bed early. It was a bit of a mess, but if it meant he could enjoy his… well, honeymoon, he supposed, then so be it.

He dropped his stylus and stretched in his chair, observing the quiet bridge and counting down the minutes until his shift ended. He had his pre-bonding check up with Bones, and then a whole seven hours before he was needed on the bridge again to oversee the docking of a ship to a prison colony. He yawned just thinking about tomorrow’s work. Maybe Bones would let him sleep through his check-up. He doubted he needed to actually be conscious so Bones could scan and poke and hypo him to his heart’s content.

14 minutes to go. Jim flexed his hand and picked up his stylus again and returned his attention to his PADD. If he could just read these last three reports before he was due in med-bay, he wouldn’t have to cram any work in the morning, before the start of their new mission. He trained his eyes on the text and began reading it in his head, loudly and so that he knew he was taking each word in. The rest of his crew seemed equally as bored, in any case, tapping away at screens and monitoring things quietly and No- dammit, he had to concentrate! He shook himself and glared at his screen. There was a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Bones telling him to ‘just concentrate, Kid’, and an arguing voice of Spock telling him he was tired and ‘it would be wiser to postpone activity until you have achieved a period of rest’.

He lowered his PADD again. Spock voice won. He dropped it down and stood, intending to make a lap of the bridge to fight off his drowsiness. In his peripheral vision, he saw Uhura shift too, as if to stand, and as he turned to her he instead watched her crumple. No sound or warning. She simply contorted and collapsed, sliding off her chair and hitting the floor with a thud.

Jim was by her side before he’d taken a breath, bounding to her and shaking her lightly. “Uhura? Lieutenant, can you hear me?”

She was pale, for certain, but she was reacting to his calls. “Get Bones here, now.” Jim ordered and distantly heard Chekov contacting the Doctor. Sulu had joined him, abandoning his post to help his friend. Together, they straightened her out and helped her sit slightly.

“Sorry…” Uhura said thickly, blinking her eyes open. She looked pale still, and vaguely nauseous, but Jim knew his communications officer. She might be stubborn as a mule, but he was sure she’d admit if something was terribly wrong. “I fainted?”

Jim hated fainting. Not only was it tiring and grim, it was also embarrassing. There was no reason for it to be, it was completely natural and happened to loads of people; as Bones had told him a thousand times. Hell, he’d even seen Bones faint once himself. But he did understand why Uhura seemed so closed off. It wasn’t pleasant to wake up on the floor with no recollection of getting there.

“I’ll say. You just fell. How do you feel?”

“A little light-headed, honestly.” She closed her eyes. “Maybe I forgot lunch? I’m sorry, Captain, that’s never happened to me before.”

“Don’t worry about it,” He glanced up to the opening turbolift doors. “The Doctor’s here now, in any case.” Bones was accompanied by a familiar nurse and the moment he saw it was Uhura on the floor, his mouth fell open.

“You know I’ve been conditioned to hear ‘medical assistance required on the bridge’ and think that _you’re_ the one in trouble.” Bones said angrily, jabbing a finger into Jim’s arm before kneeling beside Uhura and taking out his tricorder. If Jim didn’t know any better, he’d have said Bones was worried.

“Erm, ouch, for one.” Jim replied, rubbing his arm. “She fainted, Bones, there was no need to panic.” The glare he received in response was physically uncomfortable. “I’ll be over there, being Captain. C’mon Sulu.” He said glumly, stalking back down to his chair- Sulu followed, taking his own place beside Chekov.

He tried not to eavesdrop on Bones, Chapel and Uhura. But it was hard not to hear Bones’ unmistakable sulking, and Chapel teasing him softly. Nor could he ignore Uhura’s laugh; not feigned, but certainly tentative in a way it normally wasn’t around Bones. He didn’t want to make presumptions. If Spock was here, he’d be called an illogical human right about now. But he got the feeling that Uhura was scared, and that both perplexed and terrified him. Uhura was just about the strongest person he knew.

He kept his eyes trained on his PADD, not even pretending to read now, until he heard Uhura getting up off the floor. He turned and watched her and Chapel walk towards the lift, slow and steady, and Bones approached him looking pale.

“She’s fine. But I’m going to have her in for tonight anyway, make sure everything is okay. Think Chapel would make my life hell if I didn’t look after her best friend, in any case.”

Jim nodded, slowly.

“So I’m postponing your check-up for a few days, Kid. I’m too busy tonight now. I’ll try and catch you after this ship docking tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Bones, sure.” He said, but he didn’t think he’d ever been less sure in his entire life. “Go; take care of our communications officer.”

Bones nodded sombrely, trying to smile, before he turned on his heel and strode off the bridge. He didn’t look back or grumble about his workload. Worse, he didn’t even greet any other crew members on the bridge.

When he was gone, Jim announced to his crew that his shift was officially over, and the transferral period began instantly. He didn’t move as he watched the others switch over; Sulu and Chekov walking together, Chekov swinging their hands together childishly. He felt strange. Bones was either lying or overreacting- he was sure of it. For one thing, he’d never once postponed a check-up on Jim unless there was some terrible catastrophe going on.

Uhura had only fainted. But Bones hadn’t told him why, not exactly. Oh god, what if she was dying? No, Chapel would have known too and she wouldn’t have been laughing. But what if Bones hadn’t let her see? How would he tell Spock?

“Keptin? Are you coming?” He looked up to see Chekov holding the lift doors for him. He hurried over and tried not to look completely staggered.

“It ees not long now, Keptin?”

“What?” He looked up. “Oh, no.” The bonding. He smiled distantly. “I can’t believe it. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever and now it’s right around the corner.” His heart swelled, as it always did, with the way Pavel looked at him. Like he idolised him. He loathed it in most; didn’t like to be the hero. But Chekov was special. He was like an overgrown puppy and though he was now twenty and in a committed relationship with Sulu, Jim thought he’d probably always think of him as a big kid. Sort of how Bones saw him, he figured, but that voice in his head that sounded like Bones countered with, ‘Oh, Kid, you have no idea’. Bones had said that to him once. He remembered it vividly. He’ll pulled strings to get them housed together at the academy and when Jim has asked why, why he bothered to care for him, that had been Bones’ reply.

“You look happy, Captain.” Sulu commented, pulling Chekov close to him.

“I am, gentlemen. Now, if you excuse me,” The lift doors opened, “I have a Vulcan to go and bug. Have a good night.” He bound off the lift and waited until the doors had closed behind him before sagging and sighing heavily.

He made his way into the lab, and found his betrothed sat at a microscope. Spock looked up instantly, allowing himself to look moderately curious considering the only other officer in the lab was sat a good enough distance away.

“You are troubled.” He said, without bothering to phrase it as a question.

“That’s about right. Do you have much left to do?”

“I can finish immediately.” And he began to pack his things up without a word, jotting down something in his notes and then putting those away too. He gestured for Jim to lead the way and they made their way back to their quarters.

Jim didn’t know where to start explaining, frankly. He didn’t want to sound like a gossiping teenager, but nor did he want Spock to underestimate how concerned he was. If that were possible, in any case.

“I was under the impression you would not be free until 2200 hours this evening, Jim.” Spock said, finally, as they entered their quarters.

“Yeah, that’s sort of the thing. Bones cancelled my check-up.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly. Here’s the thing,” Jim sat down heavily on their sofa while Spock busied himself with making tea. “We were on the bridge and Uhura fainted- she’s fine! Or, she seemed fine in any case.” He explained quickly, and made a mental note to snog the living daylights out of Spock another time for his worrying. He was the most faithful friend to those blessed few who got to see the real him.

“Go on.” Spock encouraged, handing him tea and sitting beside him.

“So Bones comes up with that Chapel nurse-“

“Christine Chapel. She is Nyota’s, what I believe she called, B F F.”

Oh fuck, why was Spock so distractingly cute. He nodded briskly. “Yes, well, I got shooed away so I couldn’t really pay attention. But Bones looked pale, Spock. Like he was really worried. And I know he and Uhura are pretty good friends now, but Chapel didn’t look too fussed from what I saw.”

“You believe the Doctor has chosen to keep information to himself regarding Nyota?”

“Either that or he cares for her a whole lot more than he’s let on before.” Jim shrugged. “He said she was completely fine and yet he insisted she spend the night in sick bay and rescheduled my check-up.”

“It is curious.” Spock agreed, curling a hand around Jim’s neck and stroking the hair there absently. “I shall go to sickbay this evening to visit my friend.”

“You’re going to snoop for me?” Jim couldn’t help himself. Worried though he was, he grinned brightly at his bondmate. “Why Mr Spock, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Then I shall endeavour to enlighten you.” Spock replied simply, before capturing Jim’s lips with his own. All worries about Uhura and Bones were forgotten as he surrendered to Spock’s mouth, moaning weakly when Spock tugged him into motion. He climbed onto Spock’s lap, straddled him and grinned against his mouth still.

“Missed me, baby?”

“We have had neither the time nor the energy in the last 5 days to pursue activities I admit to finding most enjoyable. If you believe you are distracted by-“

“Steady on, Spock, I’m all aboard the consent train here.” Jim snorted.

“You are also tired.”

“You think I’m too tired to make you shout?” He grinned wickedly, a hand reaching down to Spock’s groin. He was gleeful at the way Spock’s eyes darted to his lips; how his breath caught slightly and his fingers inched closer to Jim’s psi-points.  “I shall endeavour to enlighten you, Mr Spock.”

* * *

“Never fear, your Captain is here.” Jim said theatrically, grinning at Nyota as he flounced into medbay. The only patient in the private room smiled at him. She still looked tired, but nowhere near as pale or sickly. Her eyes shone with an unmistakable brightness, though he wasn’t sure he was precisely the cause.

“Oh great, the happy couple have come to distract you.” Bones muttered, shaking his head at them. “Visiting hours are over boys.”

“Now don’t be a killjoy Bones. Spock was worried about his bestie.” He gestured to Bones’ office for them to proceed.  Bones glared at him, but went inside anyway. Jim offered Uhura and his bondmate another cheesy grin before he followed, and found Bones already opening a bottle of scotch and pulling up two glasses.

“You okay, Bones?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh god, she’s dying isn’t she? Oh fuck.” He slumped down into his chair.

“Don’t be ridiculous, moron. I’d have told you immediately if that were the case. She’s absolutely fine. God, if I assumed _you_ were dying every time you fainted, I'd have a persistent heart attack.” If Jim’s interest hadn’t already piqued, it certainly had now. He’d never seen Bones look so deeply troubled before when he was telling Jim good news. If Uhura was actually fine, then why was Bones staring absently through the mostly-closed blinds of his office window into medbay?

“Oh my god, you’re in love with her.”

Bones looked at him, irritated. “Jesus Christ, would you shut your damn trap for five minutes.” He drained his glass, while Jim tried to recall the last time his friend had been so conflicted. Not since he’d only been a kid himself, he thought. His whole messy break up with his wife. He’d later confessed to Jim that they’d married too young, that it wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Jim wasn’t sure he believed that. He remembered Bones doing everything on earth to keep his marriage working.

“Just… let me work through this myself, would you?”

“Sure, Bones.”

“Good. Business as usual tomorrow, d’you hear me?”

“Yeah Bones. Loud and clear.”

He finished his drink, wondering idly if Spock was having any better luck with Uhura. Bones clearly cared for her more than he was ready to admit to himself, and Jim felt like crap for that. Bones deserved to be happy, and Jim was a failure of a best friend if Bones felt otherwise. But he had no idea if Uhura felt the same. If she did, he didn’t doubt she’d sort both of them out sooner rather than later.

“You need anything, Bones?”

“No, kid. Just to get through this week. Then we’ll have some time off for once, and something to celebrate.”

“Excited?”

“Hell yeah. Those Vulcans sure know how to party.” Bones snorted, but Jim knew he was only being sarcastic. Their party was aboard the enterprise and would be absolutely insane, if Jim had anything to do with it. Or Scotty. Or Chekov. Or Sulu, for that matter. Jim wouldn’t actually be drinking, himself. For one thing, Spock wouldn’t touch him if he exceeded his approved limit of rational thinking- and he wouldn’t allow that on his wedding night. Bonding night. Whatever. But they were also facing the strong probability that bonding would induce Pon Farr, in which case he needed a clear head for as long as possible before they were beamed down to their honeymoon site. Still. It’d be fun to watched everyone else get wrecked for once.

“And you?” Bones asked quietly. “I haven’t stopped hearing those obnoxious ship wide announcements, so I guess you’re still excited.”

“I am.” Jim replied instantly, and he wasn’t lying. He was excited to feel Spock in every way, to be linked irrevocably and intricately. “But I’m also fucking scared. And Spock is terrified. He just doesn’t talk about it.”

“Well, you’ll have to face it sooner or later. Maybe it won’t even happen yet.”

Jim shrugged. “What will be will be.”

“And we’ll be prepared when it does. What matters is, you’ll be bonded. There’ll be nothing to get in your way and a much higher chance everything will go smoothly, and you’ll come out the other end nothing more than a bit tired and hungry.”

“That’s me all the time anyway.” Jim joked, as the door behind him opened and Spock stuck his head around the door. “That’s my cue to leave I guess. Get some rest Bones, you look like crap.”

“Oh the day you were scared of me, Kid. That’s the day I dream about.” Bones replied.

* * *

The door to Jim’s quarters closed behind them swiftly– their quarters, really. They never slept in Spock’s cabin anymore; Spock only ever went there to meditate. Even Jim’s temperature had been changed to accommodate for his bond-mates Vulcan comfort levels.

“I take it you were unsuccessful in learning from Doctor McCoy?” Spock asked quietly, immediately beginning to get ready for bed.

“Sort of.” He stripped with far less precision, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. He’d hoped- anticipated- to sleep like a log. But he got the feeling he’d be restless tonight, now. “He didn’t really want to talk about it.” He slid into bed and watched Spock folding his clothes for him. “Why? Did you find out?”

“Nyota has been distracted of late. I believe her feelings for the Doctor are becoming troublesome to her.”

“Yeah, she’s not the only one. I think her fainting made Bones realise some things he didn’t want to. Frankly, I can’t afford to have my communications officer ill with worry and my Doctor grouchy with heart ache.” He sighed. “Maybe we can lock them in a room together until they sort everything out and just kiss already.”

Spock observed him through those pretty dark eyes, joining him in bed and kissing his collarbone sweetly. “I believe it would be wisest to allow your friends their space at this time, Jim.”

If Jim ever doubted that he was a mature, responsible Captain of the Starfleet Flagship, then he had to look back on this moment and remind himself that he actually had the capacity to be an okay human being. “Alright.” He agreed quietly. Because the two people he trusted most in the world were telling him to do something. It didn’t even bug him that he couldn’t intervene. He could only hope that they did work it out sooner rather than later. He hated seeing Bones conflicted, but he didn’t particularly enjoy it for Uhura either. He knew for a fact that Spock didn’t.

“Uhura came and sat with me when you were ill, you know? I asked her to come because I couldn’t think of anyone else who knows what it’s like to hurt without you. She’s so strong.”

“She simply fainted, Jim. She will continue to be strong. She assured me she was still ‘on’ for our dinner plans tomorrow evening.”

“Good.” Jim stroked Spock’s hair idly, until his hand got tired and he simply held his head. Spock hadn’t noticed and he realised that his First Officer had already drifted off, curled up beside him and holding Jim’s waist to keep them together. Jim watched him and smiled, and then turned the lights off and closed his eyes.

He would respect Uhura and Bones. He didn’t need to know. Besides, there were happier things to think about. In less than a week now, he’d be bonded to Spock. He grinned and focused on that, until sleep finally claimed him too.


	17. Chapter 17

Jim felt physically sick the morning before the bonding. They had been at Vulcan for twenty minutes and he had yet to actually leave the Enterprise, coming up with a dozen excuses to delay himself. He just had to check that last report again or make sure Scotty knew what he was doing while they were gone. Really, he was just nervous. Not of the bonding, that he couldn’t wait for, but the ceremony. The Vulcan atmosphere. Spock’s father, if nothing else. They’d met before more than once, but this was different. This was meeting as his soon-to-be son in law. He felt shaky.

He closed his suitcase for the fifth time in as many minutes and suddenly Spock’s hand was on his, sneaky and quick.

“You are being ridiculous, Ashayam, my father already approves of you. Your anxiety is unwarranted; there would be no reason for him to change his mind now.”

“But he doesn’t really know me, Spock. He knows my reputation, and god knows how he approves of me on that.” Jim retracted his hand. “And that’s cheating.” He accused coolly.

“My father approves based on the information that I have presented him myself. Since Vulcans cannot lie, it is only fair to assume he will find the qualities I have relayed to him clear and true.”

Jim glared, but he really couldn’t argue. There was no argument to be had, it seemed. God, the rest of his life with Spock was going to be interesting. The only real argument they’d ever had was over not bonding in the first place. He didn’t know what it was like to have relationships without arguments. That was all he’d ever known in role models. Even Bones had been like that for most of Jim’s teenage years, until his divorce. In practice, Jim had never really had relationships to argue in, though, so he couldn’t speak from his own experience. Spock was everything to him.

“I don’t know why you’re so patient with me.” He grumbled, moving closer again and pressing his head into Spock’s chest, until he felt long arms wrap around him in a hug. “I’m sorry. We should go, shouldn’t we?”

“Indeed.” Spock sounded concerned, still. “I have been keeping a secret from you, as it were, Jim.”

Jim pulled back, jaw slacked in shock, and stared at his bondmate. Fiance. Wow, he couldn’t call him that for too much longer. “Sorry?”

“I am not supposed to tell you, but I believe you may find it something of a comfort.”

“Go on?”

“You will not have to spend any longer than 3.55 hours in my Father’s house. It is your last night as a ‘bachelor’. Though, I confess, I do not see how the title is applicable when you have not been single for some time now.”

Jim grinned before he could stop himself. “You’re kidding-“ And Spock arched a brow.

“Assuredly no. Doctor McCoy approached me last week to arrange it. You will be beamed back aboard the enterprise at dusk without prior warning for your Bachelor’s Party.”

“Holy crap. That’s hilarious. But that means I won’t get to see you until-“

“The ceremony tomorrow, indeed.” Spock looked fondly at him. “As per earth tradition, I believe.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess. It’s just, we haven’t actually been apart for a night in ages.” As hollowing as that thought was, he wasn’t any less excited about the prospect of a party. Bones was the best, best friend he’d ever imagined he could have. “And I can’t actually drink that much, unless I want to spend our bonding day feeling like hell on earth.”

“I am sure you will enjoy the festivities nonetheless. We really must leave, Ashayam, or else my father will wonder where we are.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Let’s go.” He turned to fetch his case, but Spock had it already. He figured the need for a case was irrelevant now that he’d be coming back to the ship, but for appearances sake they took it anyway. He took Spock’s free hand and leaned into him happily as they departed their quarters and made their way to the transporter room.

“How’s Uhura today? Any developments that you know of?”

“She is well, Jim. We have not discussed it, though she will be joining me tonight for chess and meditation.” Jim snorted at Spock’s idea of a stag-do. “I believe she is quite excited for tomorrow.”

“Good. I’m glad. Send her my love, I guess. Tomorrow, I can’t believe it. I wish Pike were here. And old Spock. I think he’d have been glad to find out we’re finally together.”

“I do not doubt it.” Spock looked at him, curious brown eyes glancing uncertainly. “May I ask you something, Jim.”

“Of course.”

“Did you invite your brother and his immediate family?”

Jim tensed. He hadn’t been expecting that. “No.” He replied quickly. “No, I didn’t. I haven’t seen him- them- in years. And I certainly wouldn’t want them here tomorrow. Maybe… if we ever do the earth ceremony, when we retire one day, maybe, I’d invite them. But this is for us, Spock. For us and with our Enterprise family. That’s more than enough.”

“If you are sure. I was concerned that this was a decision you may later come to regret.”

“No. Don’t worry about me, Spock. I didn’t go to his wedding, after all. I saw the pictures. She was beautiful. My mom went, and they played happy families, but I couldn’t do it. I hitchhiked to San Francisco and crashed with Bones for a week until my mom realised I wasn’t at any of my usual digs and Bones had to put me on a transport back home.”

Occasionally, Spock said or did something that truly shocked Jim. Made him re-evaluate what he thought the limits of Spock’s humanity was. He sometimes failed to appreciate how exceptionally perceptive and empathetic Spock could be. This was one of those times.

“That must have been extraordinarily difficult for Doctor McCoy.”

“Yeah,” He said thickly, annoyingly overwhelmed with emotion. “Yeah it was. I was too stubborn to officially ask for help. I was just a delinquent.” He could remember that anger so well, how it set his veins burning, and yet he felt as though it belonged to an entirely different person. “So there wasn’t much Bones could do. He just patched me up and fed me and sent me home. I don’t think he ever forgave himself for not doing more, but I never let him.”

They reached the transporter room door and paused, Jim taking a deep breath to steady himself. “I should thank him more often than I do.”

“On the contrary, I think you thank him more often than you realise, in many ways.” Spock released his hand. “Are you ready, Ashayam?”

Jim didn’t answer vocally, but reached up and kissed Spock chastely.

* * *

Stepping out onto New Vulcan, Jim was overwhelmed by the heat. It was blasting and he was reminded intensely of the summer on Tarsus, when it had been all he could do to survive long enough to find them water. Spock’s hand tensed around his slightly; a reaction to Jim’s negative thoughts, or perhaps a reminder that he wasn’t on Tarsus at all. He was on his Bonding leave.

“Captain Kirk, Spock, you are later than I was anticipating.”

“Apologies, father, there was ship’s business that the Captain had to attend to.” Spock said swiftly, before Jim could blather his own apology. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Spock hadn’t technically lied, but he hadn’t been honest either. Did Jim really need to try that hard to impress Sarek?

“It is of no consequence.” Sarek nodded. “I offer my welcome to New Vulcan, Captain, for this important occasion.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’m glad to be back in happier circumstances.” He said, thinking of other Spock. That hadn’t been the shore leave that’d he’d been hoping for in any way. Hopefully, Pon Farr aside, they would have time to explore a little and see how the new settlement had progressed.

“Indeed. I offer you my name, Captain.”

Jim let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. “Thank you, Sarek. The same to you.”

“Then Jim, and Spock, let us return to the house.”

* * *

Spock’s father was not unlike Spock, Jim found. In a way, he’d imagined him to be more like older Spock. Or hoped perhaps. The older man was like his Spock on a bad day, but there was much more to him as well. Jim saw it in his house. There was a single picture of his wife on the wall, for example. How was it logical to hang a light-sensitive photo on a wall in a desert eco-system? It wasn’t. There had to be an emotional reason for it, an attachment. Spock caught him looking at it as they waited to be invited into the dining room and took his hand.

“It is unfortunate that my mother did not survive to see this day. I am sure she would have been hopelessly emotional, and you would have found it most touching.”

“I bet.” He grinned, as he always did. “You still think she’d have liked me?”

“My wife was tirelessly courteous in the face of the arrogance of my people, and devoted most entirely to our son.” Sarek’s voice behind them made Jim start suddenly, and turn to his soon to be father-in-law. “I spent 30 years by her side and bonded to her mind. It is my logical conclusion that she would have _liked_ you a great deal.”

Jim couldn’t help it, but grinned again. At least someone’s mother approved of him, even if his own never did. Never had done. In any case, the idea was warming.

Sarek looked at him, then, in a manner that reminded him strongly of Spock; it was either disapproval or curiosity.  Only Sarek was fully Vulcan. His emotions weren’t betrayed quite so easily, and his eyebrows didn’t so much as twitch. Jim wanted to laugh out loud, but restrained himself. It was easier to be intimidated by Sarek than he wanted to admit, and he didn’t want to offend him with a ridiculous display of emotion.

“Dinner is served.”

“We shall join you shortly, Father.” Spock spoke for them both and his father acquiesced, leaving them with grace.

“I will not get chance to speak privately to you again prior to tomorrow.” Spock explained softly, pulling Jim closer.

“Ah, I see. And what is it that you have to say to me, Mister Spock?” He asked, wickedly, wrapping his arms around Spock’s neck and pulling him tighter. Not that he relished the idea of Sarek knowing his son was turned on, which he probably would, but Jim did like the idea of watching Spock trying to maintain his control like that.

“You are incorrigible, T’hy’la.” There was amusement in his eyes for only a moment. “I love you most deeply, Jim.”

“I love you too.” He pressed his head into Spock’s tunic and hugged him tightly.

* * *

Jim had really wanted to be locked in a passionate embrace with Spock as he got beamed out. Something to fuck with his friends and gross them all out. Instead, he was stood admiring the view from Spock’s bedroom balcony. They’d gone upstairs under the pretence of resting after dinner, perhaps unpacking for bed. Jim really had tried to convince Spock to engage in some form of sexual activity, but he’d refused. As the transportation began, they locked eyes, and Jim felt intensely like staying rather than going.

He found himself in the transporter room, faced with Bones, Chekov, Scotty and Sulu, and he put on the biggest grin he could summon. Even if he’d miss Spock, it was still nice that their friends had arranged this.

“Jesus guys, you nearly gave me a heart attack! What’s up?”

“It ees your last night as a bachelor.” Chekov said slowly.

“So we thought we’d throw you a stag do, lad.” Scotty continued, ruefully.

“And Spock was in on it, so don’t think we just kidnapped you out of your room.” Sulu told him. “C’mon, everyone’s in the mess.”

The guys traipsed out happily, looking like they’d already had a bit of a head start on the drinking. Jim made to follow, but was held back by Bones, who had a look on his face like he’d just been woken up in the middle of the night.

“The hobgoblin told you, didn’t he? Goddammit, you can’t tell him anything in secret.”

“To be fair, Bones, we are _already_ mentally bonded. Besides, I was nervous about meeting his dad. He wanted me to have something to look forward to. And I’m not sure how I would have reacted if I hadn’t been told before anyway. Jesus Christ, being taken away without prior communication? I could have freaked, Bones.”

Bones looked at him sternly. “You getting bad again, Kid?” He asked, as if he wasn’t just as pale and tired these days as Jim had ever been. Not that Bones would admit to this. Worst damn patient on the Enterprise that he was.

“No.” He sighed. “No, I’m not, and if I was you’d be the first to know.” After Spock, he guessed. Everything would always come after Spock now, and he wasn’t sure how to think about that. He loved it, obviously, but for a long time, Bones had been all he had.

“In that case, you would have been fine. Anyway, we should go, or we’ll be missed.”


	18. Chapter 18

The next time that Jim beamed aboard the Enterprise, he was a bonded man. He grinned at the congratulations that Scotty lavished upon them, his hand captured immediately by Spock’s as they moved off the transporter bad, followed by Nyota and Bones, who had joined them at the ceremony. Both of their guests had cried, but Jim wasn’t saying a dot about it. Spock’s father also joined them, though probably for appearance more so than anything else. Jim couldn’t imagine him enjoying a party of drunken Starfleet officers.

They entered the mess to raucous applause, and Jim thought his cheeks were going to split he’d been smiling so hard. He could feel Spock in his mind more strongly than ever before; like a flame burning in the darkness and sending heat down his every vein. It was no more intrusive than the immature thing they’d shared before, but it was infinitely stronger and Jim felt so much more control over it. He could send his thoughts and feelings through it, call out for Spock or feel how his bond-mate was at any moment, touching or not. But touching was better too. It was addictive and good god, how did normal people settle for human marriage, when Vulcans had _this_ on offer?

The congratulations were unending, until champagne glasses were handed out and Jim accepted. One drink wouldn’t hurt him, and it was his ‘wedding’ night, technically. Then Bones, a little flush from drinking already, yelled for them all to shut up, and Jim leaned into Spock and listened.

“Alright- quit it- I know it’s a happy day but shut up-,” Bones grumbled to the gathering. “In case any of you weren’t aware, I’m the goddamn best man, so shut it and listen to my speech.” He coughed, and addressed Jim and Spock. “Jiminy. Kid. Our Captain.” Bones glared at the cheers there, and Jim waved them down unsteadily. It wasn’t the alcohol, but the fear of what his best friend was about to say. “I’ve known you longer than anyone on this ship. I’ve known you since you were hip height and answering back. Not too much has changed. But the reason I’ve stuck with you, Jimmy, the reason you’re my best friend, and a friend to all on this ship, and a damn good Captain, is that you care. You care more than anyone I’ve ever met, or will meet. You never stop caring, Jimmy. And I’m damn glad that you found someone who cares just as much about you.” Bones raised his glass, and everyone else joined him. “I’m so proud of you, Kid. To Jim and Spock.”

The group repeated his sentiment and applauded them again, and Jim felt Spock pull him closer still.

“Thank you everyone! Really, stop congratulating us and enjoy yourselves! Captain’s orders.”

He turned in Spock’s arms and beamed up at him. “Some family we’ve got, right?”

“Indeed.” But Spock didn’t have that contented gleam in his eye that Jim expected him too. He looked in equal parts protective, frustrated and lustful. “Doctor McCoy is approaching us, Jim.”

Jim bit back his concern and turned around again, looking to his friend. “You soppy git, Bones. I didn’t think you loved me so much.” He teased.

“What can I say? I took a hipflask to the bonding and I’ve been drinking ever since.”

Jim didn’t dignify that lie with a response, but reached up and hugged Bones tightly. “Thank you.”

“No problem kid.” Bones ruffled his hair affectionately. “But your husband just stormed off so I’m gonna let you go now.”

“What?” Jim looked around wildly, to see Spock’s retreating figure. “Fucking hell, I guess he was right then. Hang on.” He hurried through the confused crowd after Spock, catching his arm and pulling him around.

“Spock, where’re you going?”

“I require meditation, Ashayam.” At least he wasn’t mad, then. “I am less prepared for this than I had anticipated, and I had no wish to drag you away from your friends.”

“Sweet as that is, Spock, if you storm out of a wedding party you tend to give the wrong impression.” Jim pointed out, kissing his knuckles softly as he looked around the interested crowd. Most of the part-goers were trying to look as if they weren’t being nosy, but a few others were outright staring- unapologetically.

“Perhaps I was hasty in my retreat.” He acquiesced. “My apologies, Jim.”

“It’s okay. As long as you’re okay, too. How long do you think you’ll be?”

“Half an hour at most. It would be prudent to beam down this evening rather than in the morning, if you are in agreement.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He tried not to feel nervous, and the warmth from their bond helped considerably. “Go meditate, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

“Of course, Jim.” They kissed briefly, before Spock turned to depart. Jim watched, smiling, in case anyone was watching. It wasn’t hard to smile; he was so desperately happy, after all. But the worry was bubbling below the surface. Spock would come back soon, hiding behind a thin screen of control, and then they would depart for their honeymoon. He wasn’t scared. The madness was damn well coming, no matter what, and feeling nervous wasn’t going to help him. They were completely prepared. It was going to be fine.

“You sure you don’t want a glass of champagne, kid?” Bones asked, suddenly behind him again. “Might take the edge off?”

Jim turned, shaking his head. “I’m good.”

“Alright then. Is Mr Kirk okay?”

“ _Mr Kirk_?!” Fucking, damn it, Bones just knew how to make him howl with laughter until his lungs hurt. “Shit, Bones, you can’t say that to me. That’s just weird. Anyway, he’s gone to meditate for ten minutes.”

“Well then, Captain, I think there are a few people here who want to dance with you.”

Jim didn’t dance very much in the end, though he did make the effort with Nyota, who was smiling just a fraction too widely for him to believe she was truly happy. She was worrying him, still, and had been since her incident on the bridge. But there wasn’t much he could do about it, and he was too worried about Pon Farr to dedicate her or it much time. He needed to conserve his energy. Still, he laughed and watched his crew, and laughed more until his stomach had hurt. Spock had returned and sat at his side, making such an effort to interact it was actually adorable. Considering the amount of control he was probably expending, Jim had expected him to be even quieter than normal.

Eventually, they slipped away. When Scotty was trying to teach Sulu old Scottish songs and Chekov was asleep on a table. They followed Bones down to the transporter room and kicked out the ensign in there for a moment’s privacy.

Bones administered about 8 hypos. Jim stopped paying attention after the first four; ignoring the pain with all his might. They were a cruel, cruel necessity.

“Okay, I had all your supplies beamed down to the site. I’ll be in touch in four mornings. If you don’t respond within ten minutes, I’m coming after you.”

“Agreed.” Spock responded quietly. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I think we’re on a first name basis now, don’t you Spock?” Bones said dryly, to which Spock blinked in what Jim could tell instantly was pride. “You’re welcome. You both just stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Will do, Bones.” Jim hugged him briefly. “Speak to you in four days.” He moved onto the transporter pad and Bones allowed the ensign back into the room to transport them down.

“Have a good honeymoon, idiots.”

For a moment, they locked eyes. There was concern and uncertainty. Then, the world disappeared around them.

* * *

As soon as Pon Farr had started, Jim had forgotten all his preconceptions of what it was going to be like. He’d found himself lost to passion in a way that seemed ridiculously cliché whenever his mind was clear enough to consider it, but all consuming otherwise. In the brief periods of calm and sleep, he found he did ache in every single muscle in his body, and he was exhausted and starving. Sleeping and eating was always brief and time passed in a haze of trailing lips and sweet, if tender, bliss. There was nothing scary about it. Not when Spock was above him, holding himself up on strong, sinewy muscles, unrelenting in his thrusts. Jim was too out of it to do much but grip the sheets beneath him and try to breathe and breathe and fucking damn-

He grunted and writhed, as much as the space would allow him, gasping in a shaky breath before he lost all sense of time and place. Everything was hazy, and he didn’t know if it was pleasure or just sheer exhaustion. He closed his eyes and tried not to move; didn’t until he felt a warm, damp cloth pressed against his skin. It didn’t sting, that wasn’t the right word, but it revealed a sensitivity that he hadn’t been prepared for. He opened his eyes with some effort and focused on his bondmate.

“Spock…? We in the clear?”

“Affirmative, Jim.” Spock sounded as… foggy as Jim felt, but his actions were gentle and precise. Jim didn’t doubt for a moment that he was completely grounded again, even if he did need considerable sleep and nourishment. “You are injured.”

“Nah, I’m not.” He fought back a yawn. “M’okay. Sleep, Spock. C’mon.”

Spock didn’t answer and continued his ministrations for a moment longer, before finally the mattress dipped again and he curled up beside Jim. They could worry about everything else after a bloody good sleep and, the way Jim felt, an earthquake couldn’t wake him.

* * *

Bones’ promised check in came through the following morning, when Jim was sat in a tepid bath- a rarity on Vulcan, if slightly more acceptable on New Vulcan. Bones had secured the privileges for them in any case, and Jim was beyond grateful for it at this point. The water had soothed him immensely and, in the other room, Spock’s meditation incense was only helping him lose himself entirely to his residual tiredness.

He reached for his PADD and sent Bones a cheery, positive message to confirm they were both alive and recovering well. He didn’t doubt that Bones would insist on coming to see them at some point in the day, just to make sure, but there wasn’t much else he could do beyond that which he’d already provided for them. Jim had hypoed himself up the moment he had enough energy to raise his hand, and Spock too. All that was left for him to do was sleep, lots, and then hopefully enjoy the rest of their honeymoon before their leave was over and it was time to return to the ship.

Bones reply came through quicker than even Jim had expected.

_Alright Kid. I’ll be checking in again tonight, and I’ll beam down tomorrow morning to look you over myself. Use your hypos and eat well._

Jim grinned ruefully, tapping out a reply before dropping his PADD back onto the floor and dragging himself up out of the bath. The towels in the bathroom were hot and thick and humongous, and he felt somewhat childlike to be wrapped in one. But again, it soothed his sore muscles so he pulled the fabric tightly to his skin and padded back into the bedroom.

“You should have called for assistance, ashayam. I would have helped you out of the bath.”

“Jesus, Spock, I’m perfectly able to get out of the bath by myself. I’m not so old that I can’t function after a few days of rough sex.”

The look Spock gave him was enough to set him into a fit of laughter and he dropped onto the bed, rolling into the fresh sheets and gasping in breath.

“I would not have said you were in the vicinity of what humans deem old, Jim.” Spock said, anyway, arching an exasperated eyebrow at Jim’s reaction. He followed Jim to the bed, curling up beside him and burrowing his hands into the towel that Jim wore.

“You’ve not spent much time around earth children, Spock. They think anyone over 18 is old, and I’m a good decade beyond that.” He snorted, hugging Spock to him. Through their bond, he felt a contentment that he couldn’t quite fathom. Being connected to Spock so deeply was the most fulfilling experience of his life. It had helped during his madness, as he’d predicted, and he didn’t doubt it would forever be the thing he cherished most about his otherwise dubious life.

“You are still one of the youngest Captains in Starfleet, and still the object of much of the public and your crew’s affections.”

“Jealous, Commander?”

“There is no purpose in jealousy, Captain.” Spock replied, definitely not teasing him. No, his shining eyes were always so, and the quirk of a smile tugging on his lips was just an accident. “When it is I who possesses the thing that they desire.”

“Possess indeed.” Jim smirked, pressing a kiss to his head. “And do I possess you, Spock?”

“In every way imaginable.”

* * *

Jim felt quite ridiculously domesticated the next day as they waited for Bones to arrive. His stiffness had eased, and he was left with only a lingering ache, to which Spock had him sat on the sofa with tea and his PADD until the Doctor joined them. Spock himself was tidying. Or had been. He was most meticulous and neat, bustling around the room until Jim had finally tugged him down to sit with him and they ended up looking through some paperwork together. Command waited for no man, it seemed, and Jim wouldn’t want it any other way.

Bones arrived bearing an early lunch; something that Spock’s father had sent that was vegetarian and ridiculously healthy, but homemade and looked fantastic. Spock unpacked the meals while Bones looked Jim over, glaring at them both intermittently.

“Alright. You’re better than I expected.” He finally admitted gruffly, picked up his fork. “But I expect you to rest for another few days, at least.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Jim smiled blandly before shoving food into his mouth. He’d not stopped being hungry since the morning after, which made a pleasant change really. His appetite was usually so wildly unpredictable.

“Yeah well maybe one day you’ll actually listen to me. Spock thinks you should rest, too.”

Jim arched an eyebrow at his bondmate, inquisitively, daring him to agree.

“Indeed, on this occasion I do believe the Doctor is correct in his assessment.”

“Blasphemer.” Jim replied, glowering theatrically. As neither his bondmate nor the Doctor showed any inclination to crack a smile when it came to his health, he quickly changed the subject. “How’s my ship, by the way? Scotty was supposed to be doing some improvements-“

“I haven’t seen him for about three days either, so I’d say that’s precisely what he’s been doing.” Bones informed them, derisively. Honestly, it was almost like he resented being stuck on Vulcan for shore leave.

“You could try getting off the ship yourself, you know? Explore the planet a little bit. Spock could tell you all the best places to have fun.”

Spock did as close to an eye-roll as Jim had ever seen him do, before pointedly focusing on Bones instead of him. “It would benefit you to take advantage of your time off, Leonard.”

Bones looked like he was gonna snap at them for a moment, mouth opening in an intake of breath that usually preceded a cutting remark. Instead, his mouth fell closed and he dropped his fork down. “If you must know, I am going away for few days. I was just waiting to make sure you were both out of the danger zone.”

It was Jim’s turn to stare then, mouth opening and closing more than once as he tried to think of an appropriate response. “W-where?”

“Mars.” Bones deadpanned. “Around Vulcan, idiot, where’d you think?”

The pounding of his heart eased, if only slightly, and he took a breath in, avoiding Bones’ wearing look. “You and your goddamn abandonment issues, Jim,” A hand reached out to the side of his head. “On holiday. I’m not leaving the Enterprise. It’s just… difficult.”

“Then explain fully.” Spock said calmly, interceding to handle the shambles of a conversation.

“Yeah, thanks Spock.” Bones’ sarcasm was leeching. “I’m going… with Nyota.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Jim frowned at his bondmate. “Since when do you say ‘oh’?”

“It was the first thing that popped into your head. I assumed it was the natural response to the Doctor’s statement.” Spock countered easily, and damn him for being right. Frankly, Jim couldn’t think beyond his initial ‘oh’. The persistent speculation he’d had about Uhura and Bones was suddenly being confirmed before his eyes, and all he could think was ‘oh’.

“So… you and Nyota?”

“Not… sort of?” Bones looked pale and conflicted, eyeing them both very seriously. “It’s complicated. Very. I’m telling you because you don’t deserve me to keep secrets from you. But it’s still complicated.”

“Right.” Jim chewed on his lower lip and the dull ache there reminded him that Spock had done more than enough chewing on his lower lip for a month or so. “So you’re something?”

“Yeah. We’re taking it slow. I’m not exactly good at this.” Bones shrugged. “As long as you’re both okay?”

“We are, Leonard. Both in terms of health, and in respect of your growing relationship with Nyota. We wish you well.”

“Yeah, what he said.” Jim grinned, some of that tension draining easily away from him. This was what it felt like to be an adult, he figured. Having lunch with his best friend and his bondmate, and having a distinct feeling that everything was going to be okay. Nothing was perfect. He didn’t have Sam, but Bones was more of a brother than Sam had ever been anyway. There wasn’t much else he wanted besides Spock, Bones and his ship in any case. Not in the foreseeable future. More so than that, he knew things were going to be okay for everyone. Bones and Uhura. Chekov and Sulu. Him and Spock. They were all good and imperfect and facing the impossible and unknown every day.

“So help me god, the pair of you are insufferable.” Bones grumbled, good-naturedly.

“We love you too, Bones.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, folks.


End file.
